


Mark Me Yours

by digthewriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Draco, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, HP: EWE, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Magical Tattoos, Mention of switching, Misunderstandings, Muggles, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, slight open ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/pseuds/digthewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that...sometimes the worst idea in the world is the best option you've got. Draco has no other alternative. It's been ten years since the war and he's flat broke. He only has one choice, and there's only one man that can help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings/Content: Possible OOC. Short-tempered Harry. Confusion. Longing. Angst. Magical tattoos. Moving Art. Fluffy ending. Made up Pureblood rituals, and some magical history.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: The plot is adapted from an original m/m fictional story titled Adorned, however, I have changed it drastically to fit into the Harry Potter universe. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. (Also, if you know anything about Adorned, please know, that the ending is totally different, and so is a lot of the characterization of all the side-characters.) I basically took the idea of a tattoo artist and a down and out man who had no other choice, and ran with it. I owe everything to Ane O., Nia and Josephinestone for their help and encouragement. I hope you like the story! (All the remaining mistakes are mine!)

* * *

"I'm going to need you to remove your clothes."

Potter's husky voice nearly echoed in the empty room as Draco's head shot up from staring at his feet towards him.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I have to inspect your body—" Potter hesitated for a second. "The canvas. I need to see if I can work with it."

Draco turned away from Potter as he started to unbutton his shirt. It wouldn't have really mattered, anyway, since Potter was asking to see him in the buff, still, he _needed_ to do that. He couldn't look at Potter while he was undressing. When they both knew what Potter was going to see. The scars on Draco's chest—the scars Potter has placed there nearly ten years before. 

"It isn't too late to change your mind," Potter said. 

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Draco asked in return. Why beat around the bush under false pretences? Draco needed a job. No one would hire him, so this was the only thing he _could_ do. 

It had been ten years since the war, and Draco had been resourceful enough to survive off what little of the Malfoy fortune had been left to him. He was careful with his money and his spending, but he had also not managed to secure employment in ten years. _Ten Years_ , and still no one would hire the former Death Eater, and eventually Draco had lost everything. His money, his house, everything.

"We always have a choice," Potter said.

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco snapped almost immediately as he turned to face Potter in nothing but his briefs. He wondered if Potter needed him to remove those as well. He hoped not.

Potter raised an eyebrow and Draco nearly panicked. "I'm sorry," Draco said almost immediately. The man that had brought Draco to Potter's tattoo shop had said that he was to always refer to the owner as "Sir," but Draco struggled to oblige. He was willing to participate in the formality of the situation until he'd realised that the man he was meeting, his new—for lack of a better word—master, was none other than Harry Potter.

"It's alright, I'll let it slide this time." Potter spoke with ease. Draco noticed that Potter was examining his body and analysing whatever he needed to, to make his decision.

Draco's thoughts returned to wondering why he was standing there? Why was he standing at a Muggle tattoo shop in London and being assessed by Harry Potter—to be his canvas?

A week before, Pansy had owled Draco saying that she'd found him a work opportunity. She knew a man who was looking for someone for an art project. "An art project," that's what she'd called it. Draco had no idea what he was signing up for. The man met with Draco and told him that he was willing to salvage some of his possessions from the manor if Draco agreed to sell his services to him. 

At first, Draco had thought that the man wanted to have sex with Draco, but he was mistaken. Well, he wasn't entirely mistaken, the man _did_ want to have sex with Draco, but those weren't the services he'd talked about. The man, Jacob Kaminas, was going to purchase all of Draco's mother's paintings and store them for Draco if Draco agreed to be his property. 

Kaminas wanted to take Draco to a wizard tattoo artist who was looking for eager human canvases. It seemed, from what Kaminas had told Draco, that the art of Muggle tattooing was all the rage in the wizarding world and this wizard was prepared to pay good price for the right canvas. Kaminas thought that Draco would make the perfect canvas. 

"Think of it this way," Kaminas had said, "if the tattoo artist really likes you and turns you into an art piece, the wizarding world won't be able to look away. All those men that never gave you a second glance for being a Death Eater will be paying good money to attend parties where you'd be put on display!"

The thought _was_ intriguing, Draco reckoned. It was a lot better than selling himself for sex.

"I'll do it!" Draco had said almost immediately. He really should have thought it through, but the idea seemed too promising. 

Kaminas had informed Draco that if the tattoo artist liked him, he'd buy Draco's services as a human canvas for three years, and in those three years, he'd adorn his art on Draco. After the three-year contract, when the artwork would be finished, Draco could pledge to be the artist's living art-piece and be paid for being put on display. The income he'd earn from all the willing wizards would set Draco up for life. He'd be able to purchase back the salvaged art from Kaminas and live a content life.

Draco remembered several Pureblood parties from when he was a child. There were always guests that were hired to simply come in and mingle with the guests. They were considered entertainment, and he even vaguely remembered half naked wizards and witches that walked around and everyone gawked at them with adoration and what he reckoned was desire. He was too young at that time to have realised that the gleam in their eyes wasn't simply fascination but also vehement lust.

"What if he doesn't want me because I'm a Death Eater?" Draco had asked as soon as he'd agreed to the service-bond. 

"The master tattoo artist won't bother with such conventions," Kaminas had said. "He is a world known artist, both Muggle and wizard, and people pay good money to see his works. If anything, he'd welcome the scandal."

"Who is he?" Draco had been so curious. He imagined what the man looked like, if he too had tattoos up and down his body and what kind of a wizard was so interested in a scandal?

"All in good time," Kaminas had answered and in hindsight, Draco realised that he really should have pushed the man for more details.

"Well, your diet certainly needs to change."

Draco was jerked awake from his memory of how and why he'd got there. He was too busy scowling internally at why he was standing naked in front of Harry Potter, being judged for his imperfect physique.

"My diet?" Draco asked.

"You're too thin," Potter answered. "There are bones sticking out of places you need to have some meat. If I put you under the needle today, you'd faint in a moment's notice and your wounds would never heal properly. It'll be a waste of my time and effort. Not to mention, money."

"So you've bought the contract, then," Draco said, "from Mr Kaminas?"

"Just about. I told him that I do need to evaluate the—your body. Like I said, you just seem malnutritioned, but your skin is fair enough and nearly spotless. The colours would—" He drifted off and returned to his drawing table to look through some papers.

Potter was facing Draco's back when he'd made the last comment so Draco turned and glared at him. "What about _this_?" he asked, pointing at the scars on his chest. The scars that had barely faded in the past twelve years.

Potter cleared his throat and was visibly uncomfortable. "Like I said, the ink would work _wonders_ on your skin tone, and I can work with designs that will hide the scarring if not fuse into them."

"You sound very sure of yourself," Draco said. He wasn't really sure why he was pressing Potter's buttons. He needed this contract; it was his last chance at survival.

Potter chuckled. He _was_ very sure of himself. A remark like what Draco had just made would have had Potter lashing out if this were their Hogwarts years, but now, Potter looked like the dart barely grazed him.

"You can dress now."

Potter turned towards his drawing table again, and Draco watched him as he dressed. He saw the vein in Potter's neck pulsating, like he was very aware of Draco's eyes on him. Otherwise, the man barely flinched.

"Do you have any tattoos?" Draco asked after he zipped up his trousers and was stepping into his shoes. 

Potter's attire was the first thing Draco had noticed immediately after he'd realised that his new employer, his _tattoo master_ , was the Saviour himself. Potter wore a long-sleeved black shirt that was buttoned all the way up and his jeans fit loosely. He was barefoot, but the man didn't display any ink on his feet.

"Some," Potter answered without looking up. "All artists that apprentice under a wizard tattoo artist are required to ink themselves. It's sort of a rite of passage, but, otherwise, I never really had any interest in decking myself. I like to draw on other people."

"Why did you want a wizard for your human canvas?" Draco shifted his weight as he spoke. He was bloody tired, but Kaminas had instructed him that he was to stand straight the entire time he was in the room with the tattoo master, unless directed otherwise.

Potter must have seen the discomfort on Draco's face and gestured for him to sit. He spotted a leather chair behind him and sat down; the back seemed to recline a bit. Draco wondered if this is where people sat while Potter inked them.

"Muggles treat tattoo art as an assertion of themselves, and so do many wizards, but they don't understand an artist's need to express his or her own feelings on to a canvas. It's easy with a painting or a photograph but needles and ink that's—that's something personal. People want to give their own ideas, because it is ultimately _their_ body and you're going to have the art forever. I realised that I liked the idea of creating my art on a human and putting that on display. I find the idea of having people judge, comment, or marvel in it fascinating..." He sighed for a brief moment, as if he was overwhelmed with emotion. "And, with magic, it's just something so much more—You know?"

Potter's eyes looked like they were on fire. He was no longer the cold and stoic man Draco had encountered a half an hour before, and he reckoned that Potter rarely expressed himself so openly to everyone. He must have really decided to acquire Draco's contract from Kaminas if he was sharing his ideas, his passion with him so freely.

Draco knew that his face was still impassive and Potter turned abruptly and walked towards the door. Potter surely took Draco's non-reaction as disinterest but it was too late now, Potter's cold hard exterior was back and his voice had changed back, guarded.

He opened the door slightly and called out: "Send in Mr Kaminas." Draco heard the brief sounds of electric needles as other tattoo artists that worked under Potter in his shop were going about their day.

He remained seated on the comfortable leather chair as he watched a blubbering Kaminas drop compliment after compliment to Potter, eventually thanking him for trusting "his investment." "He would take the ink well, won't you say?" he'd asked Potter who'd nodded curtly.

Draco rolled his eyes but made sure it was when neither man was looking at him. Potter was clearly putting up a front of being icy and aloof, and Kaminas was nothing but a greedy businessman.

"Good luck, Mr Malfoy," Kaminas said as he approached Draco to shake his hand. Draco was about to stand up when he caught Potter's gaze and Potter shook his head. He remained seated. "I shall keep your property safe in my Gringotts vault and they are yours when you are ready to purchase them from me."

Draco smiled curtly and nodded. "That's very kind of you," he mustered up and the man shook Potter's hand again before leaving. 

The room was once more eerily quiet and Draco felt that if either one of them spoke, it would be sure to echo again. When the silence was too much for him to bear and Potter returned his attention to his drawing table, Draco stood up. 

"Where shall I be staying?" he asked; partially to break the silence, and partially because he was tired and hungry. He wanted a bed. He wanted to sleep. Forever. Potter could tattoo him in his sleep and Draco wouldn't care.

"Your things?" Potter asked, looking confused. His voice however, was still impersonal. 

"I have none," Draco answered, honestly. The only thing he had were the clothes on his back. Everything else that mattered was under Kaminas' jurisdiction.

"Very well, let me show you the way."

* * *

*

* * *

Potter and Draco travelled one flight of stairs up and Draco felt the magic in the room. So far, Draco hadn't realised the existence of magic in the tattoo shop but noticed that one floor above Potter's Muggle studio was his magical one.

"This level is sentineled from Muggles. I've placed a Muggle-Repelling Charm and there's no technology in this room." Potter pointed towards the fireplace in the corner. "You'll Floo here when you're needed and we will work downstairs in my studio. When you are ready for the second phase, we will move up here. Until then this room is simply a bridge for us to travel to the shop."

"The second phase?" Draco asked.

"Magic," Potter answered without looking at Draco and they stepped into the Floo. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" Potter announced as he threw the Floo powder and the flames roared.

When they arrived at Potter's home, a stout old woman with caramel skin and dark amber eyes came rushing to the Floo, and she was followed by a tall man whose skin was paler than Draco's and a beard so dark; he looked like a ghost. They were both dressed in black as if they were in uniform and they looked curiously at Draco as if they were trying to place him.

"Asha, Bhim, this is Draco Malfoy," Potter said with an authoritative tone that he'd used with Kaminas earlier. "Malfoy, this is Asha Sarchan, and Bhim Alexis. They live here with me and see to the everyday affairs of the household. If you need anything, you can direct your enquiries to them and they are to be treated with the utmost respect."

Draco nodded at Potter's words and then smiled at the two people standing in front of him. He thought it rather unnecessary that Potter needed to state that Draco is expected to show them respect. Draco was fully aware that he was a guest at Potter's house and that he would be respectful to anyone that lived there, as well. He supposed that being Pureblood and a Death Eater, Potter just assumed that Draco would be arrogant towards what was obviously _the help_. Of course he would be respectful, Draco had a lot of time to think about the ways of his family and other Purebloods that he'd grown up around, he wasn't the same person anymore. Except, no one really bothered to get to know him, anymore.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Draco said, trying to sound as humble as he could. 

"Oh, enough with the formalities!" the woman, Asha, said. "Let me show you to your room." She pulled on Draco's arm and started to drag him towards the stairs when she stopped and looked at Potter.

"Mr Potter, the—"

"Second room on the first level shall do, Asha. Make sure that Malfoy has clean clothes from the wardrobe in the attic, and draw him a bath with tea tree oil, please."

"Dinner, Sir?" the older man asked as Potter turned to step into a room on the side of the hall. 

Potter looked like he was about to dismiss the man when he spoke again. "Ms Naya is due to return tonight, Mr Potter," Bhim Alexis informed Potter who looked a bit taken back for a moment then a glimmer of contentment emerged in his eyes. 

"Oh, she is," Potter said, keeping his tone even. "Alright then. I trust you've already prepared her favourite?"

Asha Sarchan nodded with enthusiasm and Bhim Alexis looked proud of himself as well. Potter displayed a hint of satisfaction as his lips slightly curled up. "You two really do spoil her. Very well, then. I will be down for dinner. Please make sure Mr Malfoy also joins us." Potter nodded at his staff of two and disappeared into the room. 

Draco looked around the house that once belonged to his bloodline and thought it was a lot different than how he remembered it. He'd been at Grimmauld Place once as a child and was freaked out by the heads of the dead house-elves by the staircase. He was glad that they were no longer there, and he wondered if the infamous portrait of Walburga Black was still around. He remembered reading an article by a reporter who did a tour of Grimmauld Place after the war and had written paragraphs on the screaming obscenities of his great aunt.

Asha led Draco to his bedroom and handed him a towel. "Well, you better start undressing. The bathroom is just down the hall. I'll draw you up a bath and then fetch you some fresh clothes from the attic, alright?"

He nodded and started to unbutton his shirt. "Ms Sarchan—"

"Oh, dear child. Call me Asha, Mr Malfoy."

"Please, call me Draco." Draco smiled at her before speaking. "Asha, who is Ms Naya?"

"Oh, Avi?" she asked as she beamed with happiness. "Avi is Mr Potter's oeuvre."

"Oeuvre?" Draco was confused.

"Just like you!" Asha said, smiling. "She's been with us for two years, now. Usually Mr Potter only takes on one oeuvre—a canvas for his art—at a time. But, he must have seen something in you that he decided to—"

"He said that I need to change my diet. He looked really displeased with me as a canvas, I doubt he'll be working on me any time soon," Draco said, dryly. For some odd reason, Draco was disappointed that Potter didn't seem all that pleased with him. Additionally, Draco had no idea that Potter already had had canvases, _oeuvres_ , before.

"Oh, hush. He must have seen something if he drew up a service-bond for you to work with him."

"I haven't signed anything yet," Draco replied.

"Well, all in good time, yes? It's only been a day. Maybe he thinks you'll refuse."

"I don't exactly have the luxury to refuse."

She gave Draco a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure you can work something out. Are you against the idea?"

"The idea of what?"

"Of becoming an art piece?" 

"No, I thought it sounded rather promising." Draco had nearly undressed by this time so Asha turned around to grab a dressing gown and handed it to him. 

"Well, I can see what he meant by your diet. My dear child, you're dwindling away!"

"I've always been like this," Draco answered feeling self-conscious. He wrapped the dressing gown around him and removed his briefs.

"You'll certainly need to change that if you are to go under the needle eventually and then parade around showing your body." She bent down to grab Draco's clothes and bundled them up.

"You sound like you don't approve."

"It isn't my place to approve or disapprove." She smiled again and decided to take her leave. "Now, the bath will be ready in ten minutes so rest here for some time. Dinner is in an hour when Avi arrives so we must not be late!"

* * *

*

* * *

Draco soaked in the warm bath for a very long time. It had been a while since he'd had the luxury of someone drawing him a bath and he not having a worry in the world. He closed his eyes and relaxed as he thought about the woman he was going to meet later. Avi Naya. Everyone in the house seemed to love her and the mention of her name had brightened Potter's face.

Draco wondered if he would love her, too. What if she hated him? Surely, she wouldn't think of Draco as competition? If Potter was going to go from having one human canvas, or _oeuvre_ , as Asha had called it, to two, his attention would be divided. 

Kaminas had told Draco that inked wizards relied heavily on public appearances to be able to afford their lifestyle. If Potter didn't complete Avi Naya's artwork, would she hold it against Draco?

"Draco, are you just about done?" Asha knocked on the bathroom door and startled Draco. Ten years of near solitude, and now in one day, Draco was being sought after constantly.

"Yes. I'll be right there," he answered and stood up to dry himself. He wrapped himself in the dressing gown again and made his way to his bedroom. When he arrived at the room, he noticed that Asha had changed the linens on his bed and laid down a new shirt, a pair of trousers with underwear and socks. It was embarrassing really, that this older woman, who wasn't his mother, was treating him like he was a schoolboy. 

Uncomfortable, and feeling like a twelve year old boy, Draco dressed himself. He wore the pair of house sandals that Asha had left on the floor by his bed and followed her downstairs to the dining area.

Bhim Alexis walked through the door letting the chilly October wind in and Draco shivered. "Word to the wise," Asha leaned in towards Draco and whispered. "When waiting for guests at Grimmauld Place, make sure to place a warming charm on yourself. You could be waiting for a while with the door open." She winked at him and returned his attention towards the door.

Draco heard footsteps and he turned to see that Potter was making his way down and that he too, had changed. He wore a casual half-sleeve shirt with the top buttons loose and Draco wondered if he'd have the opportunity now to see Potter's ink. 

He didn't want to stare so he removed his gaze from Potter and waited by the door with Asha. Two minutes later, a woman with flowing blond hair, perfectly groomed eyebrows that arched beautifully and showed off her deep blue eyes walked in through the door. 

Draco was nearly floored. The woman was _astonishing_. He wasn't interested in women, not like that, but her beauty was definitely something that would turn heads no matter one's sexual orientation. She was tall. Not taller than Draco but with her build and the way she presented herself, she looked as if she could tower over him. 

"Welcome home, Ms Naya," Alexis said as he released her hand and closed the door behind them. 

"It's good to be back," Avi Naya said, beaming as she and Asha hugged. 

"It's brilliant to have you back," Asha told her and all but dragged her into the house where she walked right past Draco and greeted Potter.

He smiled at her as she bowed to Potter. "Mr Potter." Her voice was sweet and her tone reflected nothing but respect.

"Ms Naya," he said and took her hand in his and kissed it. 

A surge of envy dashed through Draco's body. He wasn't sure what he was jealous of. The amount of attention everyone was giving this woman, her beauty itself, or the fact that Potter smiled at her in a way that he'd never seen him smile before. Not even when they were in Hogwarts together and he'd dated both Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley. He never smiled like _that_ at them.

Potter continued to hold the woman's hand as she turned to greet Draco next. "I must apologise for my rude behaviour, but I did wish to say hello to Harry before I learned all about you," she said. There was no malice, or rudeness in her voice, but that didn't surprise Draco. She was in the company of her composer, her ink-master, she couldn't be rude if she wanted to be. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms Avi Naya," Draco said and bowed at her courteously. 

She smiled at him when he looked up and Draco briefly glanced at Potter who had another strange look in his eyes. It was almost as if he was proud of Draco. Draco wasn't sure if he should have been offended at how little Potter thought of him that every action of normality seemed to release a look of shock from Potter.

"Avi, this is Draco Malfoy," Potter said. 

"Of course, I know who Mr Malfoy is," she said, almost rolling her eyes. It seemed that all formality had now ended and she was acting like she was amongst friends. "Please call me Avi, none of this Ms Avi Naya business in the house."

"How do you know me?" Draco asked. They were still standing in the hallway of the house and everyone else around them, including Potter had begun to walk away. Yet, Avi still stood there, looking fascinated with Draco.

"I was a first year at Hogwarts during—during the war," Avi answered. "I was too little, too unimportant to ever be on anyone's radar, but of course I know all about the war, and your—" she hesitated. 

"My family's involvement," Draco said unenthusiastically.

"And your positive part in it. Harry's told me all about it. How you saved his life, and then he saved yours, it's stuff of legends."

"It feels like a different life," Draco answered. 

"Avi..." Asha whispered her name, and Avi's attention went from Draco to Asha in an instant.

"Dinner, of course!" Avi said as if the idea of speaking to Draco was just so preposterous. "Let's talk more over dinner, shall we? I must change into something more comfortable!"

He watched her walk up the stairs and followed Asha into the dining room. Potter was already seated at the head of the table and was reading the _Prophet_. He barely gave Draco a glance as Asha told him to sit at the chair next to Potter's. 

"Wine?" Alexis asked and Draco looked at Potter who nodded at Alexis.

"Which one is it today, Bhim?"

"Huntaway Reserve Sauvignon Blanc from Marlborough, Sir," Alexis said and shook his head as though he was expecting Potter's answer.

"So that's white?" Potter asked.

"Yes, Sir. That's white," Alexis replied, sounding almost exasperated. "Tell me, Mr Malfoy, what do you make of it?" He turned to Draco and poured him a taste.

Draco swirled the glass around, smelled the wine and took a sip. 

"Very herby, and strong sweet tropical fruit aftertaste. It'll probably go well with a salmon dish or perhaps some pilaf," Draco answered and looked up for a response. He'd also smelled similar things cooking in the kitchen so he'd ventured a guess. He found Alexis gaping at him.

"That's bloody brilliant, my boy!" Alexis said, clearly impressed. Draco felt his cheeks flush and he tried, but couldn't help looking towards Potter. Potter had an impassive look about him. "See, Mr Potter. This is what I've been waiting for all these years! Finally someone in the family that can speak my language!"

"What are we having?" Avi asked as she entered the room and sat across from Draco on the other side of Potter. She looked relaxed in a long-sleeved tunic and black cotton trousers. When she'd entered the house, she had been wearing heavy wizarding robes and now she almost looked like a completely different person. 

"Wine," Potter answered her dryly without looking up from the paper.

"White or red?" she asked.

Potter snorted. "Ask Malfoy."

* * *

*

* * *

Dinner had been a quiet affair. Quiet, in the sense that Draco gathered that no one talked shop around the dinner table. Bhim Alexis told a story from his childhood about growing up in South Africa and silly pranks he and his brothers pulled on their stepmother.

Asha talked about growing up in Kenya, and her cooking instructor who made her fall in love with all the varieties of lentils that were brought into the country via trade from India. 

Draco wondered how two of—what sounded like—the world's most travelled individuals ended up in wizarding London and working for Potter. From the sounds of it, they were well in their thirties during the second wizarding war, and he had so many questions for them that he felt like his mind was going to explode. 

Regardless of the number of inquiries he had for every statement Bhim and Asha made, Draco kept quiet. From time to time he would look at Potter whose face was almost always expressionless, to Avi, who was beaming with delight.

Every time Draco placed his fork down on the plate, Potter eyed him almost intrusively. It was as if he was keeping tabs on how much Draco was eating.

Potter excused himself from the dinner table first, claiming that he had work to do. He asked Asha to drop by later with the menu for meals the next day, and Draco supposed it was because Potter wanted to put him on a special diet.

After Potter left the room, Draco felt like the tension in the room eased up. He wasn't sure if that was just the feeling he was having, or if everyone else around also felt the same way. Avi offered to help clean up so Draco followed suit.

It wasn't until Avi had rolled up her sleeves to carry the dishes from the dinner table to the sink that Draco noticed some of her artwork. He'd stopped mid-step and was sure that he was _gawking_ at her. 

"Can I?" Draco asked as he touched Avi's sleeve and she rolled it up some more. 

On her right arm, from the start of her wrist and up her forearm, Draco traced peacock feathers. They looked almost life-like and as she continued to roll up her sleeve, Draco saw the formation of a gorgeous bird. 

"Touch the nape," she whispered and Draco wasn't sure if he should have. "Come on, don't be scared."

Draco obliged and caressed the nape of the bird and suddenly what seemed like a dormant bird came to life with the feathers flying up Avi's arm. Draco nearly shrieked with the vibration. 

Avi laughed. "That happens to almost everyone the first time."

"Wizards?"

She nodded. "The magic doesn't work with Muggles. If they touch the tattoo, it stays dormant. You need magic in your blood to make them come alive."

"What about the other side?" Draco asked curiously and turned Avi to look at the other arm. 

"It's his other half," she answered. "It's better when peafowls travel in packs. So they don't get lonely."

Draco was still shell shocked from the initial encounter with the ink and was about to ask another question when Avi interrupted him.

"Alright, it's time for bed. I'm sure you'll have plenty other questions for me, and I will answer them all—we'll be spending a lot of time together, you know—so I'll see you in the morning, Draco."

Draco nodded at her as she kissed him on the cheek and wished him a good night.

* * *

*

* * *

When Draco returned to his room, he was beginning to get excited about what his new life was going to bring him. Short of Potter barely looking at him over the course of the evening, his bizarre day had turned out to be quite alright. As he lay in his new bed, he marvelled in the comfort of the cotton sheets, the soft blanket and the freshly laundered pillow cases. He'd not slept well in a very long time and barely at all after he'd lost the manor.

His friends had been kind enough to let him crash with them but after a month of bumming around with Pansy, Blaise and Theo, Draco knew that he needed to fix his life and it was finally starting to feel like he might be well on his way there. 

Working with Potter, even though it was not the most ideal situation, wasn't the worst thing in the world. Anything was a step up from living under the same roof as the Dark Lord, or living alone in a house that haunted his dreams. He'd lost his parents years before, and every night when Draco had gone to bed, he'd wondered if it would be his last night there.

He hoped that finally, the nightmares would stop, and that he could be at peace. At least for a little while.

Draco's last thought that night was a happy one and he felt the smile on his face as he drifted off.

* * *

*

* * *

The nightmares hadn't stopped. Draco had been a fool to think that it would all end so quickly. He woke up frantic, sweaty, and hot. He yanked the covers away from him and jumped off the bed.

For a minute, he couldn't remember where he was and he thought that he was still dreaming. He stumbled out of the room and knocked the side table as he exited through the door.

"Shite!" he swore under his breath and bent down to pick up the things scattered on the floor, but the room was too dark and he'd left his wand by the bed. 

"Malfoy?" Potter's voice was hushed and still it scared Draco. 

"I..." Draco was panting and unable to form a coherent sentence. 

" _Lumos_." The light from Potter's wand brightened the hallway and Draco finally managed to grab the small table he'd knocked over along with its contents. "Are you alright?"

Draco nodded and he looked at Potter, sure that he probably looked like a frantic madman. His thoughts were distracted, though, when he realised that the buttons on Potter's shirt were open and Draco could see his chest and dark designs, swirly lines on his neck and chest. 

"Malfoy," Potter said sternly and Draco snapped out from staring. 

"Sorry. I had a nightmare and I forgot where I was; I panicked—"

"It's okay," Potter said, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. He started to move his hands in circles as if he was trying to soothe him. 

Draco inadvertently closed his eyes and he felt as though he was about to lean into Potter's touch when Potter stopped. He removed his hand quickly and stood up. 

"Are you alright now?" Potter asked, his voice losing the tone of tenderness he'd just expressed.

"Yes. Thanks for— Sorry for waking you."

"It's fine," Potter answered. "I wasn't asleep. I was just on my way back from the library—"

"The library?" Draco asked, confused.

"Yes. We have a library in the house. It's not much, mostly stocked by Hermione...anyway, I was looking for a book for the night as I have trouble sleeping and I heard—you."

"Right, sorry again, Potter. Have a good night."

"You too, Malfoy."

Potter waited with his wand lit by the doorway to Draco's bedroom until Draco got back in the bed and pulled the covers on him. His body temperature had reduced to normal and he was beginning to feel chilly again. 

He turned to look at the door and Potter nodded at him and then closed the door to Draco's bedroom. Draco was back in the darkness, and he hoped that this time, the nightmares wouldn't return.

* * *

*

* * *

The next morning Draco was awoken by the smell of bacon that seemed to have spread throughout the entire house. He glanced over at the clock and realised that it was half past ten. He'd slept in. He'd overslept!

His first night at his new place of service and he'd overslept! He wondered why Asha hadn’t woken him up. He'd half expected for Asha or Bhim to come knocking on the door at half seven. 

Unsure of whether he should shower before making his way downstairs or simply change, Draco almost had a panic attack. 

"Hey, you're up!" Avi opened the door slowly and peaked in the room. "I was just coming to check on you if you hadn't actually slipped into a coma."

Draco laughed and got up off the bed to greet his housemate. "Sorry, I don't know what got into me. I usually wake up in the morning without a problem."

"It's probably the comfortable bed," she joked. "But don't get used to it. When you're ready to start getting inked, you'll be expected to wake up before Harry and if you don't—well then, you don't want to know!"

"Is he here?" Draco asked. 

"No, he went in early today. Something about supervising one of the Muggle tattoo artists. He told us not to disturb you and to let you sleep-in as much as you needed. Up until a reasonable hour, of course."

"He did? Did he tell you about last night?"

"He said you had a nightmare and you almost took the house down with you." Avi laughed as she placed her hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed it. "This is why I sleep with a silencing charm on my door." She winked and then grabbed his arm dragging him out the door.

They made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen where Asha had a plate of breakfast ready for him. "Mr Potter has given me strict instructions on your breakfast. He says I need to focus on protein and carbs. He's also told us to keep you hydrated and let you sleep-in for the first week at least. He wants to make sure that you get enough rest with the proper foods. He's heavily devoted to his investments."

Draco couldn't help but find the entire thing tiringly ironic. Granger had recruited Potter after the war to help with her venture of freeing the house-elves as they shouldn't have been considered property, but now here he was, _Potter's property_ , and being instructed on how to keep it sustained.

"He cares," Avi said almost as if she'd read Draco's mind.

"About what?" Draco asked taking a bite of bacon and enjoying the succulent taste of it. 

"It's not that you're his property. He cares about all of us. He wants to make sure we have everything we need. When you see him tomorrow about your contract, he'll tell you this. He'll also tell you that your room is your own and you're allowed to decorate it how you wish. You'll have a spending budget and everything."

It was clear that Avi was a bit taken by Potter, and he knew better than to argue with a woman about her knight in shining armour. Potter certainly was not that for Draco. He was a man who bought him—his services—from another man who wanted to use Draco for his own benefit.

Draco was nothing but property being tossed around to the next highest bidder. You could decorate the prison however you wished, it was still a prison, and Draco was most certainly trapped. At least for the next three years.

"I'm going to take a shower," Draco said after he finished his breakfast. _Most_ of his breakfast. Asha frowned at him when she saw that a quarter of his plate was left untouched. "If I start overeating from day one, I'll only end up vomiting it," Draco told her. "One step at a time, okay?"

She nodded and took his plate off the table. "I'll have to tell Mr Potter."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you," Draco said and smiled at her. She scowled at first but then broke into a heart-warming smile that had Draco almost choking back tears.

He all but ran out the door because he didn't want Asha and Avi to see him crying. 

"Harry told me to show you the library, so maybe we can spend some time there when you're done with your shower," Avi called out after him.

"Okay," he said but didn't turn to look at her. He wasn't going to cry, not really, but he knew that his eyes would give him away and he couldn't have that. He barely knew these people and he wasn't going to open his heart out to them.

* * *

*

* * *

The hot water was soothing and Draco knew that, again, he was in the shower for longer than it was really necessary. But, he was avoiding—everything. He still couldn't believe that he was living in Potter's house, under Potter's care, being fed what his kitchen-staff made, and was going to befriend a woman who practically kissed the ground Potter walked on.

He wondered what Avi's situation had been that she'd ended up under Potter's wing as his canvas. Was her situation similar to his? Had her family supported the Dark Lord as well or maybe she just wanted to become an art piece. It was an easy way to make money once you were completed. He remembered the way Avi and Potter had greeted each other last night and he couldn't help but wonder if there was anything going on between them. Instead of coming from the library last night, he was actually come from her room and he'd just said library because he didn't want Draco to know. 

Draco wondered if Asha or Bhim knew what was happening between Avi and Potter.

When he stepped out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, Draco found a new outfit waiting for him at his bed, which was perfectly made. He turned to look inside into the closet and found a whole set of new clothes hanging there. They weren't new, really, but new to him. Perhaps the last person who stayed here under the service-bond had worn them and now they belonged to Draco. Perhaps the last person who'd worn them was also just as destitute as Draco was.

"Draco, are you just about ready?" Avi walked into Draco's room without knocking and he welcomed the distraction. Draco wasn't ready to go down the sad path of self-reflection again. 

Avi was wearing a sleeveless tunic with a long flowy skirt that had slits up to her thighs. It _was_ October, right? Draco wondered. Warming charm or not, Draco thought that Avi looked as though she was ready to stroll down a summer farmer's market. He missed his mother immediately. 

A year before she'd passed, Draco and his mother would take what little money they had and go to the farmer's market every Sunday. They'd Apparate to a small village where barely anyone recognised them immediately and mother and son spent the day together, looking at flowers and eventually buying small pots or flowerets or seeds to grow in the garden at the manor. That seemed a lifetime ago, now.

"Where are we going?"

"I thought we could spend the late morning in the library until it's lunch time. Then perhaps we can go out for a walk after?"

"A walk?" he asked incredulously.

"We have to stay fit," she said, as if it was so obvious. "A healthy diet and exercise, but not over exerting ourselves. We have to keep our bodies fit. I'm really surprised that—" Avi stopped herself from speaking her thought.

"What is it?" Draco asked instantly. 

"Nothing, sorry I said anything." She took a step back and turned to leave Draco's room.

Draco chased after her; he didn't understand. "What is it, Avi? What are you surprised about?"

"Well," she drawled, carefully choosing her words. "Most ink-masters, when they pick a canvas, tend to pick someone..." She paused for a moment "...younger. I just know that you're the same age as Harry—I'm just surprised that he didn't pick someone else that was closer to _my_ age."

"Oh," Draco said, unsure, and a bit hurt. "Mr Kaminas said that I looked younger for my age and that—well—perhaps Potter was desperate for another canvas."

"Perhaps," she said and continued walking. "But...to choose an oeuvre after a _single_ meeting..." She trailed off sounding like she was still in disbelief. This was the first time Draco and Avi had been alone, and Draco couldn't help but wonder if her kindness was only a show for Potter and the others, and if she really did detest Draco as he'd first feared. 

They arrived at a room down the hall and the door seemed to be locked. Avi flicked her wrist and tapped her wand at the door handle, it opened slowly.

Draco was instantly mesmerized by the room as they entered. The library, was for lack of a better word... _breathtaking_. The entire room was covered in books and he didn't know where to start. He glanced over at Avi and the kindness in her eyes had returned as she watched him react. 

"I know," she said softly. "I was taken aback the first time, as well. It is where we spend most of our free time and I think Harry knows how to take care of his patrons." She smiled at him again and took a seat at one of the leather chairs in the middle of the room. She gestured for him to sit across from her. "Do you play chess?" she asked and when Draco nodded, she grabbed a small box from under the coffee table that was in between the chairs and set up the chessboard. "Let's see how good you are, then."

A minute later, Asha had entered the room and brought them tea and snacks. Avi seemed surprised to see Asha and Draco reckoned that the snacks brought to them must have been on Potter's request as part of Draco's diet plan. He tried not to react or show any recognition of the fact. Avi had decided to be friends again and he wasn't in the mood to make her get all cross again. 

After lunch, Avi and Draco had gone for a walk in the neighbourhood. It was a quiet afternoon, and neither of them talked much. They returned to the house and to the library. 

After spending the afternoon playing chess with Avi and then browsing through the library, Draco returned to his room to prepare for dinner. When he arrived, he saw that Asha had placed a small basket of items on his bed along with a new dressing gown. The basket contained several different types of cleansing soaps and creams that Potter no doubt had had Asha purchase for Draco. Draco supposed that the ink-masters knew what was best for the body of a human canvas, but Draco felt humiliated, nonetheless. He hated that he didn't seem to have any control on his lifestyle anymore and that, of all the people in the world, it was Potter who was dictating all the sovereignty. 

He undressed and then dressed himself in the gown before heading to the bathroom; there was no use delaying the inevitable.

* * *

*

* * *

"Don't you look fresh?" Avi asked as Draco entered the dining room for dinner. Everyone except for Potter was already there.

He looked at Asha who smiled softly at him and gestured for him to sit. Dinner was served quickly, yet there was no sign of Potter. "Where is..." Draco had all but whispered his half a question when Asha answered him. 

"Mr Potter will not be joining us tonight. He said that he'd had a long day and wanted to simply rest. Draco, he's asked for you to stop by his office once we are done with dinner. I reckon he needs you to sign off on the legal document."

Draco looked over at Avi who didn't look up from her plate as she put a forkful of rice pilaf in her mouth. There was wine served but no banter was attached to it. Draco figured it was more of a Potter and Alexis thing than anything else.

They ate in silence as Asha and Alexis talked about their day, the market, and the weather. Draco only nodded when something was directed towards him, and as soon as he was done, he took his leave. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" Avi asked as he left his room to head up to Potter's office. It was like she'd been lurking outside his room waiting for him to come out. 

"Oh," Draco responded, almost startled. "Do you think that'll be alright?"

"Sure," she said and smiled at him as she grabbed his arm and led the way. Draco only obediently followed. 

They arrived outside the door to Potter's office and Draco knocked.

"Who is it?" Potter spat out.

"It's Draco," he answered. 

"Come in." Potter's voice rolled through the door and out into the hallway. Draco glanced over at Avi who looked a bit fearful for him.

"Maybe you should go in alone," she said. "It doesn't sound like he's in a good mood."

"So you're abandoning me because Potter's upset?" Draco asked, attempting a joke. 

The door opened and both Draco and Avi jumped at the abruptness of it. "I thought I told you to come in," Potter said, and then looked over at Avi. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to offer Draco support," she answered, her voice kind.

"It's not necessary, this won't take that long," Potter said and turned to walk away. Draco followed him. "Close the door behind you," Potter added and Draco followed suit.

Draco looked around Potter's office that had artwork hanging all over the walls. The paintings weren't framed and they hung on giant pieces of parchments, some taped, and some nailed on. Potter's desk was cluttered with paint brushes, open vials of paint, and more parchment. Draco wondered how the man could find anything there, but chose to keep his thoughts to himself.

They stood in the room quietly. After Potter had found whatever he was looking for, he was waiting for something, but he didn't tell Draco what it was. A moment later, Bhim Alexis walked into the room and Potter nodded at him.

"I'm to be a witness to the signing of the contract," Alexis informed Draco, and Draco wondered why Potter couldn't tell him that himself.

Potter cleared his throat and began. "The date on the bond marks the beginning of your three year commitment," he said, without looking up at Draco. He seemed to be searching for something on his desk, _again_. Draco thought the man needed a secretary more than he needed an oeuvre.

"In those three years, you are to stay at my house, and follow the rules that are expected of all would-be-oeuvres."

Draco nodded. 

"Until I am done with you, your skin will belong to me. That means I have say over all that could impact it. Your eating habits, your coming and going, even your bathing regiments—anything that could affect the 'art'. Do you understand?"

Draco nodded again.

"Once I have begun the tattoo work on you, there might be social gatherings that you'd be invited to, those are most of the time, paid by the individual who has summoned your viewing. Any money that is made from that is to pay for your room and board. Anything left over will be put into a private account and it will be yours to collect at the end of the three years. Bhim?"

Potter turned to look at the other man in the room who had stayed eerily quiet. Alexis nodded and started to speak.

"Any action you take that will compromise your ability to show this art will have repercussions. Your contract can end early or it can be sold to a third party, if we feel that we—all of us—are not a good match."

Alexis hesitated a bit before saying the last bit. "We will need you to undress again."

" _What_?" Draco nearly choked at his question. He could see the awkwardness on Alexis's face as he said the words. Surely, neither one of them wanted this but, did he have another choice?

"I realise this is _uncomfortable_ , but the contract demands that the witness is there as I inspect the canvas officially before we are to sign it and you are bound to me for the next three years."

 _Uncomfortable_ , Draco nearly scoffed. _That's one word for it_. "Everything?" he asked, struggling to keep his face impassive. 

"Just the trousers and your shirt will do," Alexis answered before Potter could, and Draco sighed with relief.

He undressed as fast as he could, because if he were slow, this would seem wrong. It was all wrong, anyway. Why, was Draco all of a sudden so nervous to undress in front of Potter?

What if Potter changed his mind? Was this all a joke? Could the world be so cruel to Draco?

 _Of course it could_.

He closed his eyes as he waited for Potter to approach him. He felt Potter's warm body around him, and struggled to not start when his hands, his rough fingertips brushed slightly over the pattern of skin on his chest. His scar. 

Draco held his breath. 

Potter grabbed his arms and lifted them up, turning them this way and that.

"Do you burn easily?" Potter asked and Draco nearly shivered at the feeling of Potter's warm breath on his shoulder. 

"What?" Draco asked again. It seemed to be his favourite word of the night.

"Do you burn badly?" Potter asked, quietly. 

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Potter. "Um...not more than usual," he answered. He had spent a lot of time in the gardens at the manor with his mother. They hadn't always used a sun shielding charm so he knew that he _could_ spend long periods of time outside without any trouble. 

Remembering the sun in the gardens only reminded Draco of how long it had been since he'd gone flying and his heart ached for it. He _missed_ flying.

"There's already been an improvement in your skin since you've started to live here," Potter said, startling Draco again. His tone was cool and cut off; he just sounded _so_ sure of himself. Draco felt another rush when Potter's fingers brushed on the hollow of Draco's back. 

When Potter walked around and stood next to Alexis again, Draco saw the look of appreciation in his eyes, regardless of the cold tone of his voice. This look hadn't been there the first time Draco had faced Potter in his tattoo shop. Then he was guarded, and now, now he must have realised how desperate Draco really was.

"You may put your clothes back on," Potter said in a commanding tone. He turned towards his desk again and started to rumble through the papers. Draco thought that he really was just doing that so he wouldn't look at Draco again. 

Which was all good and fine with Draco.

"You will be liable if you are hurt duelling someone, or harm your body on purpose." Alexis continued to speak again. "After the term of your stay is over, you are free of such restrictions. Additionally, for your stay at Mr Harry Potter's home at number twelve Grimmauld Place, anytime you leave the house, you must be accompanied by one of the inhabitants. That would be: myself, Bhim Alexis, Ms Asha Sarchan, Ms Avi Naya, or the head of the household, Mr Harry Potter, himself."

Draco looked at Potter whose expression was unreadable, and then looked at Alexis again. 

"Under _no_ circumstances are you to leave this home unaccompanied," Alexis said firmly and the only thing Draco thought in that moment was that _clearly_ there was a story there.

"Those are the terms of the bond," Potter said and Draco nodded.

"Do you accept, Mr Malfoy?" Alexis asked.

"Yes. I accept. I will stay here, I will not leave the home alone. I will not harm my body. I will eat and drink whatever Potter orders me to. This contract is for three years and after that I am—"

"Free to do whatever you please." Alexis smiled warmly. Obviously, he wasn't the one who was being bound to the house. He was allowed to go wherever _he_ pleased.

"What about visitors?" Draco asked. Surely, someone would want to come and see him, someday.

"As long as they are announced twenty-four hours in advance, and there is someone in the room that sits with you."

"I'm not even entitled to some privacy?" Draco almost snarled at the fact.

"When your guests arrive, they will wait for you in the sitting room. You will be accompanied by Asha or myself, unless the visitor is here for Ms Naya, as well. We are not to leave the room until the guest has left. That is the rule of the house." Alexis crossed his arms and stared at Draco, making sure he understood. 

Potter opened his mouth to say something but Alexis cut him off. "Those are the rules," he said.

"The same rules apply for Avi?" Draco asked. 

"Yes. When she has a visitor, Asha stays in the room as well," Potter answered. 

"Do you accept the rules, Mr Malfoy?" Alexis asked.

"Yes," Draco answered.

Alexis handed him the piece of parchment that the contract was drawn on. Draco glanced over it, and then signed it above the line that stated: Human Canvas. That really was what he was. Nothing else. A human canvas for Harry _Potter_.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Draco left Potter's office feeling unsure. Everything was now just so final. He was now officially Potter's property. His oeuvre. The idea in the beginning hadn't really seemed so bad, but now Draco still wasn't too sure about it. He tried to think if it was someone else, if it wasn't Potter who had claimed him, would he have been so upset?

He walked past Avi's room, as he heard music he wondered if he should knock on her door and tell her how it had been. He changed his mind. 

Avi clearly found him to be a threat, not really knowing the real history about him and Potter. If she did, she wouldn't have thought so. Draco wasn't in the mood to enlighten her. All he wanted to do was go into his room, close the door, and crash on his bed. Maybe he could just sleep. Sleep it all off.

* * *

*

* * *

The next day when Draco showered and went down for breakfast, Potter was already at the table. He was laughing with Asha as he drank his coffee and straightened up when Draco entered the room.

"Morning," Draco mumbled and took his assigned seat at the table. 

Asha smiled warmly at him and served him his eggs and toast. 

"I'd like for you to come to the shop with me today."

Draco looked up after a moment of silence and realised that Potter was talking to him. "Pardon?" He gave Potter a confused look.

"One of the girls that works with me is on holiday and I need some assistance in the shop. Do you wan—" Potter cleared his throat. "Would you be willing to accompany me to the shop?"

"Of course," Draco said. He wasn't sure if he could stay at the house for a whole day again. At least at the manor, he had the garden to walk around in, and as much as he was impressed by the library and its contents, Draco reckoned it would be better to get out. See people, even if they were Muggles and Draco wouldn't know how to conduct himself.

"Avi is due to come in in the afternoon for another session and perhaps you can watch me work."

Draco nodded. Potter wanted it arranged for Draco to watch him work. Draco wanted to ask Avi if she'd too done the same with Potter when she'd first arrived to stay with him, but decided that he wouldn't ask her because he didn't really wish to hear more of her disappointed remarks. If Potter was treating Draco differently than any of his other past oeuvres, he didn't want to share it with Avi. With the way Potter and Avi seemed so close, Draco was afraid that perhaps one word from her and she'd have him kicked out of the house.

"Will I be coming in with her?" Draco asked. 

"No. You will help me set up the studio so you'll leave with me and she'll arrive an hour later," Potter answered.

Avi entered the room shortly after and sat at the table with them. She seemed preoccupied with something and Draco wondered if Potter had noticed. If he had, he didn't remark on it. As soon as Draco was done with his breakfast and about to announce that he was taking his leave, an owl arrived and everyone's attention was diverted. 

"It's got the Orléans family seal on it, I believe it's for Ms Nay—" Before Alexis could finish his sentence, Potter grabbed the letter from his hand and ripped it open.

Draco glanced at Avi and she'd barely flinched, except, he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. She watched intently as Potter read the letter. Draco shifted his gaze towards Potter who looked irritated. For once, he was glad to see that the irritation wasn't targeted towards him. 

"It seems that Monsieur Orléans has invited you to a feast, again." Potter's tone was dry and highly unfavourable. 

"Oh?" Avi asked. "Will you be going, then?" she added.

"You know that I will not be there," Potter said firmly. "I reckon you wish to attend?"

She didn't answer and Draco watched this game of theirs in fascination. Who was this Monsieur Orléans and why did Potter hate him so much? Draco wondered if he was some royalty that was interested in Avi and that made Potter jealous. 

Was that why he seemed so cross all the time? Was it that Avi had suitors and as long she was bound by the contract under Potter she wasn't allowed to date? And did that upset Potter? Was he in love with Avi?

"I'll take Draco with me if it'll make you feel better," Avi responded, finally.

"Excuse me?" Potter snarled. Clearly it was not going to make him feel better. "He isn’t—"

"You know that you will have to soon make an announcement that you've taken on another patron that will serve as your new oeuvre. What better time than as my escort at a Jacque Orléans' feast?"

"Aren't you afraid that he might get in the middle of _your_ festivities," Potter responded with an eyebrow raised. It was clearly a challenge.

"I haven't done anything that defies any of the rules and if you're worried that Draco might—"

"Avi." Potter's voice was firm. Before she could respond to him, Potter pushed his chair back, stood up, still glowering at her, and turned to leave the room. Draco had no idea what had just happened. 

"Ten minutes, Malfoy," Potter said as he stormed out, reminding him that they were due to leave. 

"You best get ready," Asha told Draco as she gathered the dishes off the table. Draco looked at Avi who seemed unperturbed by the whole encounter.

* * *

*

* * *

Draco arrived at his room and found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on his bed. When did Asha even have the time to stop by and drop the new clothes off for him? As he unfolded the clothes, he noticed that they still had their tags on them. New clothes. Would they fit?

He dressed quickly, surprised that though his jeans did hang a bit low on his hips, he didn't need to charm them for size. His t-shirt was a bit looser than he'd like it to be, but he reckoned it was probably Potter's way of telling him that he needed to eat more. 

He rolled his eyes and made his way to the fireplace, figuring that they were going to take the Floo to Potter's shop. He didn't know the name of the business and he hadn't bothered to ask anyone; he hadn't even thought about it up until that moment. It wasn't like him to not pay attention to such details, but with everything else that was happening around him, Draco truly felt lost. 

Potter didn't speak to him as he waited by the Floo. He still looked cross, probably about whatever he and Avi had argued about. Since he'd arrived at the house, Draco had only seen adoration for Avi in Potter's eyes; it was strange to see such hostility.

Potter stepped into the Floo and Draco followed suit. They arrived in the attic of the shop and when they reached the door to go downstairs, Potter finally turned and looked at Draco. "Ready?" he asked and Draco nodded. 

They walked down the stairs and through Potter's studio to another flight of stairs. A moment later, Draco realised that they were in the front of the shop. When he'd arrived with Kaminas a few days ago, they'd clearly entered through the back. 

He heard the faint buzzing sound and looked around and saw a man who looked like he was in his fifties laid flat on a table while a woman, who barely looked twenty, was tattooing him. Draco was aware of the basic concepts of the ways of Muggle tattooing but it was fascinating to see it in person.

"An early start, Ann?" Potter asked, his tone was light and it was night and day from what he'd witnessed earlier with Avi.

The woman, Ann, looked up and grinned at Potter. "Yeah, boss. Opened up early today for Mr Black over here. I know he's your favourite!" she said and returned to her work. 

Potter turned to look at Draco and his lips curled up just a bit. "This way," Potter said, and Draco followed him. 

They reached the front desk and Potter gestured for Draco to sit. "Ann's going to be with Mr Black...Yeah, I know," he said, smiling, "for about another hour. I'll need you to sit at the desk and help whoever comes in. There shouldn't be anyone walking in that doesn't have an appointment. Today is our appointment-only day, but in case there are stragglers, you can give them one of these flyers and tell them to come back. If they want to make an appointment, tell them to phone the shop after noon, when Ann is going to man the desk."

"What are you going to do?" Draco was almost panicking. Potter expected Draco to sit and deal with _Muggles_ on his _first day_?

"You'll be fine. Just say good morning, smile, and ask them what they want. You don't have to be super polite, it's a tattoo shop, you're supposed to act like you're doing them a favour. An attitude, I'm sure you can muster up." Potter chuckled as he watched Draco scowl.

"What makes you think I won't just run away?"

"As part of your magical contract holder, I have placed a tracing charm on you. If you do run, I will be able to track you easily."

Draco gaped at Potter in horror. Why wasn't he notified of this?

"I am joking, Malfoy," Potter said. "I need to get my studio set up for Avi—if she'll show up today, that is. And I need someone to man the desk. If the phone rings, don't answer it. It rings in my studio too and I'll take the messages."

"Pott—"

"Malfoy! I woke up today in a really good mood, and then Avi tried to ruin it for me. I'd really appreciate it if you could just _not_ — _just don't_! If you need anything, scream for Ann. She won't mind."

Potter walked away without looking back and Draco didn't want to call after him again. Well, he did. He wanted to yell at Potter, and tell him that he was a wanker, and that he should've clearly just stayed home but—but—Draco had a _job_. In the ten years after the war, no one had hired Draco, and Potter had given him a job!

"Merlin's beard," Draco muttered to himself. He was employed. Granted, he was probably not going to get paid for his task to "man the desk," but still, Potter was _trusting_ him with something. That was... _strange_. Draco's thoughts were interrupted when the bell at the door rang and someone walked in through the door.

"Hi. Welcome to, erm, welcome to—" Draco looked around frantically; he had no idea what the shop was called. His eyes fell on the flyer sitting by the phone and he quickly grabbed it. "Lily's tattoo shop," he read and then looked up at the woman that was glaring at him. "Welcome to Lily's tattoo shop, how can I help you?"

"I've got an appointment with Jackson." She looked at Draco derisively. He nodded at her and found an appointment book and opened it up. "First day?" she asked.

"In every sense of the word," Draco answered quietly and found the section marked _Jackson_. He flipped over to the day and saw a name scribbled on the top. "Mrs Lipton?"

"Yes, like the tea," she answered.

"Okay," Draco replied, confused.

"I'm early, I know. I'll just sit here and wait for Jackson to stroll in, hung-over, a latte in one hand and a cigarette dangling from his lips. I bet you'll think he's just _so hot_ , won't you?"

"Erm...I'm sure," Draco replied, still confused. "Please have a seat," he said, but she'd already sat down on one of the sofas by the window. "Right, then."

She shook her head at him and looked out the window. "Do you think it'll rain?" she asked but didn't turn to look at Draco. Draco wasn't sure if she was expecting him to answer. 

He mumbled an "I don't know," and started to examine the contents of the desk where he was sitting. _Lily's tattoo shop_. That's what the shop was called. Potter's mother's name was Lily, Draco remembered and wondered if Potter had named the place after her. Surely a Lily was a more interesting name than James's tattoo shop. 

It was quiet for a while and Mrs Lipton continued to stare out the window. She was young, probably only a few years older than Draco and wondered why she went by Mrs Lipton and not her first name. Mrs Lipton sounded like an old woman's name, someone who was probably around Draco's mum's age.

The bell rang again and Draco looked up to find a man with a scruffy beard, Muggle sunglasses, with a long white stick hanging out of his mouth, holding a white cup. He paused to examine Draco and Draco was stunned silent. The man was striking, even though his eyes were hidden behind the mirrored shades and Draco only saw a reflection of himself—looking shell-shocked. 

"Hi," he managed to mumble, and then Mrs Lipton conveniently cut in.

"See, I told you. Hung-over, latte, a fag, though the sunglasses are a nice touch, Jackson."

"Mrs Lipton, early again, I see," the man, who had to be Jackson, answered. He wasn't English. Draco was sure that the man's accent was American. He'd only met one American wizard before and it was someone who had done business with his father years before. 

Jackson handed his cup of _latte_ to Mrs Lipton and she happily took a sip. He removed his sunglasses and turned to look at Draco. "You're new."

"That's rather observant," Draco replied and cursed his tongue for being so short. "I mean, yes. I am with Pott—" Draco stopped himself, unsure of how he was supposed to introduce himself.

"Oh, the new guy. Harry did send me a text about that. So you're going to let him tattoo you and shit," Jackson said.

"Yes. Precisely. I am going to let him tattoo me and shit," Draco answered, dryly.

"Sorry, I forgot for a minute. Too much gin last night. I'm Jackson, and this is Mrs Lipton who is going to bite my head off if I don't get set up, so I'll see you later, _new guy_."

Draco watched Jackson disappear in the back and returned his gaze towards Mrs Lipton who was back at staring out the window.

Another ten minutes of silence and Jackson returned asking Mrs Lipton to follow him. When Draco locked eyes with Jackson, he winked at Draco, and walked away. Draco felt a blush creep up his neck. It'd been a while since he'd allowed himself to appreciate another man's appeal and suddenly the words from the night before started to ring into Draco's ears. 

_Until I am done with you, your skin will belong to me. That means I have say over all that could impact it...your coming and going..._

Draco gulped nervously. It'd be best not to develop an attraction towards a man that was employed by Potter, and even better to never act like he had an attraction. Who knew? If Potter was as cross as he was at Avi that morning for receiving an invitation from someone, he'd be more agitated with Draco and sell his contract to someone else. 

It was best not to dwell on hypotheticals that wouldn't play out anyway.

Another client came in a few minutes later, stating she was meeting with Ann. Draco told her to wait and went in the back looking for Ann. Mr Black was sleeping on the table he was at, and there was no Ann in the room. Draco walked up the steps towards Potter's studio and it was slightly open. He peered in and saw Ann speaking with Potter.

"Do you think that's really a good idea?" Ann asked Potter who didn't say anything. "Given your history..."

Draco knocked on the door startling both of them. "Sorry," he said, keeping his tone even. "Ann, your appointment is here and she's waiting. I didn't know if I was supposed to—"

"Great!" the woman said almost jumping with joy. "I'll wake Mr Black up and then you can send her in after he leaves. I'm Ann by the way, we weren't properly introduced."

"Draco." He smiled at her as she led them down the steps to the front of the shop. 

It was quiet again for some time and Draco thought about the conversation he'd overheard outside Potter's studio. _Given your history_. Had Potter told this Ann woman about him and Draco? About the war? Magic?

As the bell rang again and Draco looked up to greet another customer, Potter had returned to the front of the shop. 

"Perfect timing!" Potter exclaimed to the woman that had just arrived and she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Susan, this is Draco. Malfoy, this is Susan. Draco's been doing your job while you were out this morning," Potter said to the woman. He didn't sound excited, proud, or upset. His tone was very matter-of-factly. "Draco is staying with me. He's going to be working with me, like Avi."

Susan nodded at Potter's words and then turned to smile at Draco. "A pleasure," she said offering her hand.

Draco took her hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you," he said. He stood up from the chair and moved so she could settle in. He turned towards Potter, next. "Are you ready, for me?"

"Almost. Avi's informed me she's going to be late. We have time to go and get a cup of coffee and maybe a pastry," Potter answered. "Join me."

Potter walked out the door expecting Draco to follow. Draco did, since had no other choice. Besides, he was glad. He was getting a little hungry. He wondered if that's what this was about—getting proper nutrition. He reckoned, you were hungrier the more you ate.

They walked quietly for about five minutes until Potter stopped outside a café. "How do you take your coffee?" Potter asked. 

"Black," Draco replied. 

"Brilliant." Potter handed Draco some Muggle money and Draco stared at him blankly. "I want you to order for me. Two medium black coffees and whatever pastries you want to order."

"For you or your staff as well?"

Draco saw a slight gleam in Potter's eyes before it was gone. He looked impressed. "Just for us," he said. "I'll order for the staff."

Draco followed Potter into the café and Potter waited for him to order. He looked at the pastries that were set up on display and made his decision. Walking up to the counter he ordered. "Two medium black coffees and two scones."

"Do you want the butter on the scone or on the side?" the woman behind the counter asked.

Draco turned to look at Potter who shrugged. "On it is fine, thanks," he said to the woman and offered her the money that Potter had handed him earlier. 

It wasn't like Draco had never been to the Muggle part of the world before. He had, but it was only a few short times when he'd found a gay club to go to. Then, he'd only Apparated there, didn't order a drink until someone offered him one, shagged a bloke in the back alley, then Disapparated home. Of course, that didn't really count as ordering coffee and scone at a pastry shop, but surely, if Draco had tried, he would have been successful at it.

Draco watched as Potter ordered for his staff. He smiled at the barista behind the counter as she openly flirted with him. She looked over at Draco again and then eyed the Mark on his forearm.

"Cool tattoo. Where did you get that one?"

Draco fumbled over his words, unsure of what to say. He knew that the t-shirt he was wearing would display his fading Dark Mark but he really hadn't realised that he was going to be around Muggles and that he would have had to answer their questions about it.

Potter decided to answer for him. "A man named Tom Riddle is responsible for it. He's been dead for about ten years now." He smiled at her again and they walked away from the counter. 

Draco had no idea how he was supposed to react to _that_. Even if that _was_ the truth.

"Did you do this with Avi?" Draco asked after they'd been quiet for a few minutes as they waited for their order to be prepared.

Potter shook his head. "Avi wouldn't have any of it. She was ready to be tattooed from day one, and all she wanted was to be known for that. She wouldn't want to learn a new trade, or deal with Muggles."

"Why did you— Why am I doing it, then? To see if I'd fail?"

Potter shook his head. "I knew you wouldn't fail," he said. 

Their conversation was interrupted as the barista called out their order and they started to walk back to the shop. When they arrived, Susan informed Potter that Avi had arrived through the back entrance and was waiting in his studio. Potter dropped off his purchase at the front desk with Susan, and continued walking. He didn't turn to look at Draco, but Draco assumed Potter would want Draco to follow him.

When Potter opened the door to his studio, Avi was sitting in the leather chair. She'd undressed and was settled under a white sheet. Draco was uncomfortable for a moment, but neither Avi nor Potter seemed to notice. 

Potter's back was turned towards them for a while as he looked through a book of sketches. Draco turned to look at Avi who'd been watching him intently. "Asha sent some sandwiches for lunch for you, Draco," she said, finally. "We weren't sure if you were going to come back to the house until the end of the day."

"Turn around," Potter said, ignoring Avi's comment. 

She removed the sheet off her and her eyes flicked towards Draco as if she was challenging him to watch her. Draco turned his gaze away to show her the respect to her privacy. He heard her snort and then shift in the chair. 

"Malfoy, hold this," Potter said and when Draco'd turned to look again, Avi was settled in the chair, resting on her stomach. Potter handed Draco his sketch book. 

Draco observed as Potter traced the sketch of his artwork on Avi's lower back. He pressed his wand against the parchment and watched as the ink leaked from the parchment onto the skin.

Potter looked up at Draco and must have seen the fascinated look because he smiled. He nodded towards the chair in the corner of the room and returned his gaze towards his work. Draco dragged the chair next to them and sat. 

He was quiet the entire time Potter worked. The buzzing sound of the tattoo machine was scary at first when it was so close, but as Potter operated it, drawing over the design, colouring it in, wiping the blood, it was becoming more and more soothing. 

Draco imagined the needle on him. Potter's steady hands on him. Could he trust Potter to do this to him? Would he?

Potter had been hot and cold since he'd arrived, but still, he'd been respectful. He'd showed Draco that he trusted him, and everyone else around him seemed to just love Potter. _That isn't anything new_ , Draco thought. _Maybe I should give him a chance too, then_. 

Avi appeared relaxed under the needle as she lay under Potter's hands. She was _happy_ with a genuine smile on her face that Draco had only seen when she talked about her ink. Potter was right, that was _all_ she cared about. Draco liked the idea of having the ink, of becoming something more. People would be fascinated by them. It would be a treasure that no one could ever take away from him.

 _He would take the ink well_ , Kaminas had said to Potter. Potter had brushed him off, but now Draco could see, Potter really did believe that. Draco was there, watching Potter, because Potter wanted him to know what would happen to him. Draco had never felt more alive, and he couldn't _wait_ until it would be his turn to be in that chair.

At that moment Draco realised that he'd do anything to be inked. To be Potter's oeuvre. It would mean everything to him. He was going to impress Potter anyway he could. If Potter wanted him to be the shop's secretary, he'd do that. He'd steer clear of that bloke Jackson, avert any flirtatious remarks thrown his way—the last thing he'd want would be for Potter to kick him out over a distraction.

Over an hour had passed as Draco watched Potter's technique. From time to time he looked through Potter's sketchbook and thought it was odd that Potter was trusting him with something so important. He wondered if the canvases from the past had done the same thing. 

An odd sensation of jealousy rose inside Draco at the fact that there were others who'd seen Potter's private collection, been part of it. Why was he jealous? Of course there had been people in the past. He was sure. 

He wondered how long Potter had been in the trade? Where had he learned? Did he ever fall in love with any of his charges? If he had the resources, Draco would have enquired in the wizarding world, found out who else had been inked by Harry Potter, but of course he did not. He'd have to rely on this information from the patrons of the house and wondered if Asha or Alexis would share the details with him.

"I think that's enough for today," Potter said. The buzzing sound had stopped and Draco glanced over at Avi who didn't seem pleased. 

"I can take more," she said. 

"I know, but this is a big design and it needs to be taken in steps. An hour and a half per session is good enough for now."

"But my—"

"You'll have enough time before the Orléans' feast." Potter rolled his eyes. "You can show your new ink by then, except, I will need to wait the full two weeks before affecting it with magic."

 _Orléans_. There was that name again. Potter had been so cross with Avi in the morning regarding this supposed feast and now he seemed like it was no big deal, at all. 

"The feast is in ten days," Avi argued.

"Yes, and in six days, you will be back and I will add on to the art. Then you'll use the salve as you always do, and it'll be _fine_."

"But—"

"I am no longer discussing this subject," Potter roared. "You know the rules of the contract, you have accepted them and now you must abide by them. I can write to Jacque Orléans and inform him that you will _not_ be attending his request—"

"What good will that do? You won't earn anything if I don't go—"

"You know that whatever is earned—"

"I know!" She nearly screamed her response. Potter didn't say anything else. He stared at her, his face nearly expressionless, except his green eyes seemed to glow. "I am sorry, sir," she said, finally. She turned her head in the opposite direction and closed her eyes. Draco saw tears fall onto the leather chair but she didn't move her hand to wipe them off. 

Draco grabbed one of the paper napkins the barista had given them with their order and dabbed it on her face. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Can Draco come with me?" she whispered and Draco wasn't sure if Potter had heard her. 

Potter clearly had because he tensed up right away. "That's up to Malfoy," he answered and stood up from his chair and returned to his workstation.

"You can get dressed now," he said after a while when no one had spoken.

Draco looked away again and he sat quietly, awkwardly, staring at Potter's sketchbook.

"Draco, are you coming?" Avi asked, her tone, virtuous.

"I need Malfoy to stay and help me," Potter answered coldly.

She didn't look at either one of them and Disapparated.

Potter turned towards Draco. "Eat the sandwich Avi brought and then pull up the chair at the workstation when you're done."

"For what?"

"I want to show you the designs and see if you can draw, too."

"I haven't ever tried before," Draco replied.

"It doesn't mean you can't."

They ate in silence and Draco could hear the buzzing sounds of the tattoo needles from downstairs. Draco thought about all the questions he had again, and wondered if he should ask Potter about them.

He didn't. 

He pulled up the chair next to the station when they were finished with their lunch. 

"What did you think of the sketches?" Potter asked. 

"I liked them. They were all very different from each other. How do you decide what to use on your canvas?"

"It's a mix of everything," Potter answered. "Avi is very colourful, and her emotions are always displayed on her face and in her eyes. She's barely _guarded_. She isn't afraid to tell you how she feels, when she feels it, as she feels it. I'm sure you've noticed." 

He smiled at Draco and began drawing on a piece of parchment. Strong strokes, not caring if the paint was falling off the parchment, onto the wall, the floor. "Her anger is fire, but it's also maintained... that's why she reminded me of the peafowls. She's social and curious, always looks at you in the eyes when she speaks to you, aggressive, protective. 

The strokes on the parchment slowed and Draco realised what Potter had been creating. It looked like fire but it was a muster, a flock of peafowls that seemed to travel together. From a distance it looked like flames, they weren't, it was a group of birds. 

It was _captivating_.

Draco was at a loss for words and Potter was looking at him like he expected Draco to say something. Potter's lips were parted and he stared at Draco, waiting. 

A knock on the door broke whatever force had filled the room and Draco sighed, grateful, for the distraction.

"Harry, your next appointment is here," Susan announced and left the room.

"Do you want to watch me work on a Muggle, or do you want to go home?" Potter asked Draco, his expression was impassive again.

"I'd like to stay if it's all the same to you," Draco replied.

"Of course." Potter left the room and went to greet his Muggle client.

* * *

*

* * *

They returned back to Grimmauld Place just in time for dinner. Potter headed to his room straightaway and indicated that he would join the rest of the household later. Draco quietly stayed in his room until Asha stopped by to get him.

"Are you feeling alright, Draco?" she asked when she found him laying on his back staring at the roof. 

"Yes, just tired," Draco replied and jumped up off the bed to head downstairs with her. "Long day," he added.

"Of course. We expected you to return with Ms Avi in the afternoon, and were surprised when she told us that you were going to stay."

"Potter wanted me to learn the tricks of the trade," Draco replied.

"And you don't mind?"

"No, of course not. It was a good learning experience, and it beats sitting around the house—" Draco stopped talking immediately when he realised that his words might have been offensive to Asha. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Of course not!" She smiled genuinely at him and he sighed with relief. "I understand it's more interesting to watch Mr Potter do his magic than go to the market with me shopping for produce."

"If you ever need my services—"

"You're too kind, Draco, but I can manage on my own. Thank you very much." She laughed to let him know that she was teasing him and he was glad. 

When he took his seat at the dining table across from Avi, Draco noticed that Avi seemed to be in a much better mood than earlier that day. "Good news?" he asked.

"Yes! I've sent in the RSVP for Monsieur Orléans' feast, and he insisted that I bring you along. It's going to be so much fun, Draco!"

"What kind of a feast is it?" Draco asked, unsure of how he should have felt. He was excited at the prospect of going to a party, and Avi seemed really excited about it, too. But, with the way Potter had reacted towards the invitation had him worried. What if Potter would be angry at Draco for wanting to go?

"It's really an engagement party for Jacque's sister, Marie. And I hear Emmanuel is going to be there, too!" Avi turned to Asha to inform her; Asha looked mildly interested in the news. 

"Who is Emmanuel? Who are the Orléans?" Draco asked.

"Jacque, Emmanuel, and Marie Orléans are part of the richest Pureblood wizarding family in France," Avi informed him. 

"I've never heard of them," Draco said. 

"It's not surprising. They were second only to the Greengrass family. Jacque's told me that they were too young when the first wizarding war had happened, and their family had decided to keep low because they didn't want to speak for or against You Know Who. They'd moved to wizarding Belgium in the early ‘80's and moved back to France in 1999. Jacque and Marie manage the family business, and Emmanuel was travelling the world working with Teachers Without Borders."

It was clear that Avi was having a hard time containing her enthusiasm. It was as if she'd been _waiting_ for Draco to ask her about them. 

"How old are they?" Draco asked.

"Jacque is thirty-six, Marie is twenty-four, and Emmanuel, I believe is either thirty or thirty-one." She took a sip of her wine and looked enthusiastically at Draco.

"How do you know so much about them? They've never been mentioned in the _Prophet_." Draco was becoming curious about the Orléans, as well. They sounded like a well-established Pureblood family, and he was curious about Avi's fascination with them.

"The _Prophet_ , please!" Avi rolled her eyes. "The wizarding tattoo world works differently than the rest of the wizarding world. If you're inked, your demand is high in the Pureblood circles, and they _barely_ advertise their private affairs in the _Prophet_. The only families who do it are the ones looking for attention. Well-established families know how to avoid the papers."

Draco nodded at Avi's comment reckoning that she was correct. "And you've known them long?"

"I've only met Emmanuel once or twice, he didn't really visit the UK when his family would come and visit and I'd attend the feasts. I suppose that now he's done with this charity work and is going to join the family business, I'd see him a lot more."

"So you attend these feasts often, then?"

"Whenever they are in the UK, they request my presence. But, I'm not the only one who is invited, as an art-piece, I mean. There are several of us there."

"You seem really attached to Monsieur Orléans," Draco said.

"Jacque...He's a wonderful man," Avi replied.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You love him." It wasn't a question, and when Draco'd said it, he noticed the twinkle in her eye. Her gaze went past him and she schooled her expression. 

A moment later, Potter entered the room and Avi tensed up.

"What are we talking about?" Potter asked, sitting down at the head of the table. When no one answered, he shook his head. "Monsieur Orléans, I'm sure."

"I was curious regarding my presence at the feast," Draco said, trying to save Avi any trouble and really, avoiding another fight between Avi and Potter. "What I would be expected to do, or if there were special garments—"

"You aren't inked, yet," Potter said, and Draco could see that he was struggling to keep his composure. Draco had watched Potter _all day_ , and he was starting to learn the man's subtle little cues.

"So just every day robes, then?" Draco asked, sounding casual.

"We will discuss it when the time comes," Potter answered and he looked over at Asha who quickly brought over the dinner dishes to the dining table. 

The conversation changed when Alexis began discussing a new style of Firewhisky that he'd been introduced, and Draco was relieved when the tension quickly died down.

* * *

*

* * *

That night as soon as Draco lay in bed, he realised how exhausted he really was. He wondered if he should have told Asha to wake him up in the morning so he could be ready to go to the shop with Potter again. Potter hadn't asked him to accompany him again, but Draco was sure that if he was ready in the morning Potter would allow him to tag along.

His eyelids felt heavy and he was just about to drown into slumber when there was a faint knock on the door. Draco wasn't sure if he'd actually heard it or if it was his imagination.

"Yes?" he whispered in the dark.

"Are you decent?" Avi whispered in return.

Draco grabbed his wand and tapped the candle that was on top of his nightstand. A dim light entered the room and he saw Avi waiting by the door. "Come in," he said, and sat up on the bed.

"I just wanted to thank you for earlier tonight," she said, taking a seat on the bed.

"For what?" Draco asked, struggling to keep his eyes open; his mind was all but asleep.

"The conversation at dinner about Monsieur Orléans." She smiled at him and brushed the hair off his forehead. "You really saved me from another argument with Harry."

"I think he just cares about you, and about his work," Draco answered, unsure of what else to say. "Also, I really did it for myself, too. I didn't want to sit through another argument that really has no resolution." He was honest, too honest, and he chalked it off at being excruciatingly exhausted.

She laughed at his comment and then patted his head as if she were his older sister. "Well, he won't have to worry about me for too long," she said. "I don't have much time left on my contract and then—who knows."

"Are you hoping that Monsieur Orléans will ask you—"

"Shh!" she interrupted him immediately. "Don't say such things, I don't want to jinx anything."

"But, I thought you'd want to be free—not attach yourself to someone else. Isn't being inked a huge recognition. Everyone would want you, and your worth would be so high. Avi, you are too beautiful to just settle down after all this hard work."

Draco had no idea what this Jacque Orléans looked like, but still, he'd have thought that Avi would value her freedom more than attaching herself to a Pureblood wizard and be something that was an equivalent of a Trophy Wife.

Potter had clearly seen something in her, especially when he talked about her _fire_. She was a beautiful, smart, and an insightful woman; she could have a pick at whatever and whoever she chose. Why was she limiting herself to the first Pureblood man that came around the corner?

"You wouldn't understand," she said, and Draco _nearly_ laughed at that. He was someone who had all the choices taken away from him, if there was _anyone_ that would understand, it would have been him.

"Perhaps, when it's not so late in the night, you could explain it to me," Draco said.

"Perhaps." She leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Avi."

* * *

*

* * *

Draco woke up several times in the night, afraid that he would oversleep. Eventually, he gave up on sleep all together and headed over to shower. When he went to the kitchen in the morning, he saw Asha gaping at him in surprise.

"Has Potter left for the shop?" he asked Asha, attempting to ignore her shocked reaction. 

She shook her head.

"Brilliant, then I hope I have time for breakfast!" He smiled at her and she eventually turned around and poured him a cup of coffee and cracked a few eggs. 

Potter mumbled a 'good morning' as he walked into the kitchen. At first he hadn't noticed Draco but when he did, he had the same look as Asha had. 

"Morning," Draco said enthusiastically, and then realised that perhaps that was a bit too much, even for him. "I was wondering if I can accompany you to the shop again." He evened his tone and sounded more nonchalant. 

"Of course, I just thought you might be tired from..."

"I enjoyed the experience, and thought maybe I could be of some use."

Potter nodded. "Susan has started teaching an early morning yoga class so we do need the help in the morning. It's good of you to offer," he said and looked at Asha as though asking for coffee telekinetically. She fumbled with a cup and poured him some right away. "I can pay you..."

"You, what?"

"I was going to offer yesterday but then it just got so busy, I didn't get a chance. If you want to work the morning shift at the shop, I can pay you. I mean it can be Muggle money or I can add it to your fund I've created for you and Avi at Gringotts."

"Oh," Draco said; he hadn't thought about doing it for money. He just wanted to be able to get out of the house and mingle among...people. Plus, he liked watching Potter work. The art of tattooing was fascinating.

"Do you think Avi would mind?" Draco asked.

"Why would she mind? _And_ you don't have to tell her if you don't want to. I don't discuss my business with her. She just comes into the shop to get inked and leaves. She's never showed any interest—" Potter stopped himself as if he was hesitating in speaking ill of her. 

"Alright then. It sounds like a good plan. The more money I can save to get my things back from Kaminas, the better."

"Okay, it's settled then," Potter said. He looked at the eggs that Asha had just served him and smiled up at her. "We'll leave in twenty minutes, and we'll be back in time for supper."

"Very well, then," Asha replied. "I'll consult the list you've created for me for Mr Malfoy's diet. I'll send lunch over with Bhim." She turned and left the room, leaving Potter and Draco alone together. 

Even though they had been alone together in the shop the day before, being alone in the kitchen like that was awkward. He wasn't sure what he'd ask Potter. He knew that he didn't want to bring up the Orléans in conversation again, that was for sure. 

"How did you get into tattooing?" he asked, after what felt like an hour long silence when in reality it'd only been five minutes. 

Potter smiled. "After the war I travelled for a while and then sort of just picked it up. I met some great tattoo artists, both wizards and Muggles and learned the trade. I spent a year in Romania before I returned to the UK. I was sitting at the coffee shop where we went yesterday morning. I was in the corner and drawing on a napkin when a woman, Lena, approached me, and told me that she was looking for artists for her shop. At first she just wanted me to draw some designs for her, but when she found out that I'd had proper training and that I had the talent for it, she wanted to employ me."

"So you accepted her offer right away?"

"No, not right away, but I went to her shop. It was called 'Lily's tattoo shop' because Lilies were her favourite flower and I thought—" Potter paused and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know, I thought it was like a sign or something so I worked for her. Then five years later, she said she wanted to sell the business, and I offered to buy it from her. I love doing what I do, so there was no reason to stop."

"Oh, I thought _you_ named your shop..." Draco trailed off, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"That's what most people think," Potter said, shrugging. Apparently, he hadn't noticed Draco's awkwardness. "That's why I think it was a sign. Like it was meant to be."

"And it really bothers you that Avi doesn't take any interest in the business?" Draco asked. He hadn't missed that bit. Potter always brought Avi up in conversation when they talked about the shop and his disappointment was rather evident. He must have really been in love with her, Draco reckoned.

"I'd like all my charges to take interest in the business. I know that most people are just canvases, and they want to be inked and then move on; but, it'd be nice once in a while to be able to share a different part of me than just my...technique."

Draco nodded. He remained quiet, feeling like it was the thing to do. Potter was talking, for some odd reason, and was opening up to Draco. So Draco allowed it.

"It's kind of like when I was growing up. After the celebrity of Harry Potter was over, it was really just about me and my expertise in defeating Dark Magic. No one really seemed to care what I was about or what I wanted to do."

"The Aurors," Draco whispered. 

"Yeah. Exactly. I wanted to be an Auror when I was at Hogwarts, but I realised that it was the same thing, doing the same thing for the rest of my life. I guess I was done taking orders."

"Now you just jab needles in people's bodies..." Draco said, and Potter laughed. "Creating beautiful art, of course," he added with a smile.

"Of course," Potter said.

They finished their breakfast in silence and it was like on cue that Asha had walked back into the kitchen to clear their dishes. They took the Floo to the shop and the day flew by as it had the day before.

* * *

*

* * *

Things continued in a similar pattern for the rest of the week. Draco woke up early in the morning, had a quiet breakfast with Potter, and then they'd go to the shop. He'd mind the front desk until lunch time, and Susan would arrive to work.

Jackson continued to flirt with Draco and everyone else would roll their eyes. When Draco overheard Potter tease Jackson about his flirting, he sighed with relief. Then he knew for sure that it was harmless and that Potter wouldn't be cross with Draco for it. He still didn't trust that he was safe. He still feared that Potter would find any reason to kick him out or sell his contract to someone else. He didn't exactly like being a contract-bound servant, but he had no other choice. 

Potter continued to sketch with Draco in their downtime. He'd given Draco his own sketchbook and asked him to practice in it. He'd told Draco that he liked Draco's brushstrokes and his choices of colours. 

It wasn't until Friday, after Avi had come in for an hour of tattooing that Potter asked Draco to remove his shirt and lie on the chair. 

"You're going to start inking me?" Draco asked, excitement evident in his voice.

Potter smiled. "It's just the initiation. Everyone gets my mark inked on them first. Then we'll wait to see how it heals and then the real process will start."

"Your mark? What is it?" Draco asked.

"Can you guess?" Potter asked in return.

Draco thought about it. Potter's mark, it'd had to be something obvious, like a Snitch, or a scar, or— He thought about what he'd seen on Avi's body. He hadn't seen anything Quidditch or Voldemort related on her, then— "A lily," he said, realising, of course, it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Potter chuckled. "You're the first one to ever guess it correctly," he said.

"Do I get a prize?" Draco asked, speaking before thinking.

"Actually, you do," Potter replied. 

"What is it?" Draco asked, when Potter said nothing after that.

"You'll have to wait for that," Potter said and turned to grab his parchment with a small lily drawn on it.

"Please don't tell me the gift of patience is my present," Draco retorted; _again speaking before thinking_. 

Potter laughed at that. Genuinely _laughed_. "No, I am not _that_ deep," he said shaking his head. He sat on a stool next to Draco's reclined body. "Okay, relax."

Draco leaned back and closed his eyes. All of a sudden, he was nervous. He felt every nerve of his body pulsating, his heart was beating a thousand beats per second and his feet itched. He could not hold still!

"Draco," Potter whispered and Draco shot his eyes open. "Just take deep breaths and don't move," he added. 

Draco nodded and he knew that he'd tensed up again when Potter placed the small parchment on the right side of his body, just above his hip bone. He felt Potter's wand press into him and a slight wetness as the ink from the parchment transferred over to his skin. He wasn't sure why he was _this_ nervous. He'd seen Potter do the process at least two dozen times already. 

He took in a breath and out and finally relaxed. 

"There you go," Potter said and Draco felt his skin prickle up when Potter rubbed his fingers on the ink that was drying on his skin. "I'll just leave that on for a second, alright?"

Draco didn't open his eyes but nodded. He _felt_ Potter's eyes on him but he didn't dare open his own eyes. He wouldn't know what he'd see if he saw Potter looking at him. He wasn't sure he wanted to. 

The slight buzzing sound startled him again and Draco finally opened his eyes. He saw Potter looking at him, nervous. Brilliant! Potter was nervous. 

"What's the matter?" Draco asked, furrowing his brows. 

"Just...this is it. After this, there's no going back," Potter said.

"I don't want to go back," Draco answered, and was surprised at how much he meant it. This was it. In so many ways.

The first time the needle touched his skin, Draco felt like he was on fire. Except, it was the fire that was cutting into his skin. He burned, but in a good way. This was _nothing_ like the way he'd been Marked. This was different, at that moment he'd wanted to die, and now, he finally felt alive. 

The irony of the matter wasn't lost on him. His first symbol on his body represented something so purely evil, and the second symbol was being given to him by none other than the Saviour. His symbol. The symbol that represented pure love.

Draco closed his eyes again and felt the needle when it pulled away. Then Potter wiped his skin with cloth, and Draco supposed he was probably bleeding. He'd seen the process done enough times to know that. He breathed in and out again and the next time the needle touched him, Draco had felt Potter relax. 

"Doing okay, Potter?" Draco asked, his eyes closed and a smirk creeping up on his lips. 

"Don't tease me when I have you like this under me, Malfoy," Potter said, teased, and Draco stiffened up a bit at his words. "I didn't mean...I won't ruin your skin."

"I know, it's fine," Draco replied. He didn't stiffen up because he thought Potter could harm him, but because, Draco was open, vulnerable under Potter's touch. _Under Potter's touch_.

A few minutes later, they were done. Draco heard Potter push his stool back and stand up. He waited for Potter to return and rub the salve on his skin. "It's done," Potter said and Draco finally opened his eyes. 

Draco stood up to look in the full length mirror in Potter's studio. He examined the small flower just above his hip bone. It was simple, and the light lilac and green seemed to shimmer under the salve. Then his gaze fell upon the rest of his body. His jeans still hung low on his hips but he looked—better. Healthier, even. 

"What is it?" Potter asked when Draco had clearly been quiet for too long. 

"I think the diet you put me on is working," Draco answered, turning to look at Potter and smirking.

"And the tattoo?" Potter asked, his voice stern but he was grinning.

"I like it. I like the location you picked as well. Avi's is below her right shoulder blade."

"All part of the design. The way the peacock's feathers open up, the flower blends with it..."

"And my design?"

"I'm still working on it, but I have a few ideas."

"When will I see it?"

"All in good time."

Draco nearly groaned. "I really hate that phrase." It's what Kaminas had told him when Draco had inquired about the tattoo master.

Potter ignored him. "So you know what you have to do for the next few days to take care of it?" he asked, and Draco nodded. He'd heard Potter tell each of his customers, one after the other. "Brilliant."

"Why did you pick today?" Draco asked and when Potter looked confused he added, "to tattoo me. Why today?"

"Oh," Potter said, looking slightly annoyed. "The Orléans' feast is coming up in a few short days. If you'll be accompanying Avi, then you need to have my ink on you." He turned away from Draco. "If you're going to be seen in public," Potter added as an afterthought.

Draco considered Potter's words for a moment. "What's my reward?" he asked. "You said that I get a prize."

Potter's face lit up. "Alright, pick a design," he said to Draco, handing him three of his own sketches; sketches Draco had drawn up in his room at night when he couldn't sleep.

There was the dragon, the phoenix and the serpent. 

"These three are my most favourite," Potter informed him. "So pick one."

"Pick one for what?" Draco asked.

"Just pick one first," Potter said. He quickly turned to tend to his tattooing supplies, lining up the colours, changing the needle, and testing the voltage.

"The serpent," Draco said, finally. He handed the sketch to Potter who took the other two from Draco's hand, but let Draco hold onto the serpent one. "What is it for, Potter?"

Potter rolled up his shirt sleeve and washed his upper arm on the basin in the corner of his studio. "It's your turn," he said.

"My turn for what?" Draco asked.

Potter sat on the tattoo chair and leaned back. He rested his arm lazily on the side table that he'd dragged near the recliner and looked at Draco. "Ink me."

"What?" Draco almost shrieked. 

"It's your turn, Draco. Show me what you've learned."

"Are—are you sure?" Draco asked, now more nervous than he was while he was under the needle.

"Yes. I want to see if you paid attention. You can draw, you're good with fine quill I gave you to design with. I want you to show me how good you can be with the needle."

Draco cleared his throat, suddenly, in desperate need for some water. What was Potter on? How could he—how could he trust Draco like that? "What if I fuck it up?"

"Well, that'll show me the kind of teacher I've been," Potter answered calmly. "Now come on, before I change my mind."

Draco's hands shook as he placed the sketch of the serpent on Potter's arm. Potter grabbed his wrist and looked at him straight in the eye. "Relax. You'll do fine, Draco," he said.

"When did you start calling me Draco?"

"Oh," Potter said, thinking it over. "Today, I guess. It is your name isn't it?"

Draco didn't say anything but glared at Potter before returning to the task at hand. He took Potter's wand and pressed it on the parchment and watched the ink leak onto Potter's skin. The dark green serpent swivelled around Potter's bicep until the silver lines that Draco had drawn on emanated through. 

Draco had seen Potter do this the Muggle way when he would stencil the design on the skin rather than use magic. He was so nervous that he'd almost asked Potter if he could try it the same way, too. Yet he refrained; the need to impress was bigger than his anxiety.

He waited for Potter to examine the serpent design on his arm before proceeding. Potter lifted his right arm and examined it. "Looks good," he said and returned it to rest on the table.

Draco turned on the machine that was connected to the needle and started. His hand shook a little before the needle touched the skin, but as he started to outline the serpent on Potter's arm, he was more relaxed. He knew that he could do this. The designs that he'd spent hours on were not a waste of time as he'd originally thought. If Harry Potter, the supposed famous ink master, was trusting him with this: he would not fail. Because he couldn't fail. He couldn't fail. Not when he had something to show Potter. 

Draco decided not to dwell on the fact his need to show off to Potter had returned again as it had when he was a child, and instead decided to focus on the task at hand. Literally.

Drawing on skin was definitely harder than on a parchment. Potter's muscle twitched under his touch and Draco stopped to glare at him. "The amounts of times you've told your clients to stop moving, Potter—" Potter gave him a grin, like Draco had just said something incredible, which had Draco flabbergasted. "Just stop moving," he said.

Potter nodded then relaxed his head back and closed his eyes. Draco continued. He was becoming more confident by the minute. He knew exactly how to angle his wrist, and at what speed to move the needle on the skin. It was like the notion of tattooing was speaking to him. He knew what he was doing, and he didn't doubt it.

He could see how Potter worked the way he did.

When he paused and looked up at Potter, Potter was staring at him. His eyes looked like they were full of wonder, as if he was shocked to see Draco be so confident. 

"What?" Draco asked, immediately feeling self-conscious. 

"Nothing," Potter answered and blinked away. "How much longer?"

"Just about done," Draco replied and returned to work. 

A few minutes later, they were done, and Draco followed Potter's procedural steps. He pushed the stool back, and went fetching for the salve. He returned a few moments later, wiped the tattoo one last time and applied the aftercare treatment.

"It's ready," he announced and Potter turned to look at his tattooed bicep for the first time. 

"Looks great," Potter said and walked up to the mirror. "Really good. I'm glad you picked a simple design. I always wondered how a snake would look on me."

"It suits you."

"Said the Slytherin," Potter said and wrapped his arm with some gauze and tape before pulling his sleeve down. "Alright. Let's go home, I'm starving."

*


	3. Chapter 3

The next day Draco awoke later than usual. Potter had told him that they weren't going to the shop on Saturday so he could sleep in. He took full advantage of that option and woke up leisurely some time past ten o'clock.

He had woken up in the middle of the night a few times and made his way to the bathroom to check on his tattoo. He still couldn't believe that he was inked, and the feeling was rather staggering. 

By the time he made his way to the kitchen for breakfast, the house seemed eerily quiet. "Where _is_ everyone?" he asked Asha as he took his seat at the table. 

"Bhim and Avi have gone to the market. She said she wanted to purchase a new outfit for Monsieur Orléans' feast, and Mr Potter has gone to visit the family."

"The family?" Draco asked, surprised.

"Yes. The Weasleys," Asha answered. "He goes to visit the children. He is the godfather, you know."

"Oh. Granger and Weasley—I mean Hermione and Ron's children? Have you met them?" Draco felt like he'd slept through to a parallel universe where he was utterly alone again. No Avi, no Potter.

"Yes. Rose and Hugo are Hermione and Ron's children. They certainly are the most delightful pair. And Fred and Roxanne, they belong to George and Angelina. But, Mr Potter is only the godfather for Rose and Hugo. I believe Charlie and Bill are godfathers to George's kids. I've only met them a handful of times. They don't stop by much. Mr Potter likes to visit rather than have people over."

"Okay," Draco said and finished his breakfast in silence. "I'll be in the library for the rest of the day," he announced and got up to leave the kitchen. He felt Asha's eyes on him, but didn't turn to ask her why she was looking at him. He was sure she had something to say, but Draco wasn't in the mood for Asha's chipper excerpts.

* * *

*

* * *

Draco spent most of the day in the library, looking through history books in search of anything of relevance towards the Orléans' family. He really had never heard of them and he wondered how had they managed to stay off the radar for so many years that their family name never came up in conversation. Not even from his father, who was _always_ aware of every Pureblood family around him.

After what seemed like hours of research, Draco came across _A Guide to Medieval Sorcery_ where an Antoinette Orléans had poisoned her husband by slowly mixing a blue elixir in his wine every night for over a year. She was the first witch ever accused and caught for poisoning her husband. She'd never really been caught, though. The story was that after being found out for her use of the Dark potion—which was really a translucent blue—she'd vanished with her female lover. 

Draco wondered if this was some sort of an insight in the Orléans family. Were they related to this Antoinette who'd apparently vanished into thin air and wasn't seen again until she was drawing her last breath at a hospital bed?

Did the Orléans have magical spells that they'd preserved as a family secret for generations?

Draco shook his head at this faux-detective work. Clearly he'd spent too much time on his own and was reading too much into something that probably didn't even exist. It was an intriguing idea, though, he thought. 

His research was put on hold when he heard someone enter the library. It was Avi. 

"Hey, there you are!" Avi said with what seemed like genuine excitement. "I've got a present for you!"

* * *

*

* * *

It was quiet in the house as Draco was getting dressed for the evening. He was nervous, and if it’d been his way, he probably would have stayed at the house. But it had already been decided that he was going to accompany Avi to the Orléans’ feast.

She’d bought him a new pair of trousers and a starch white shirt for the evening. She claimed that Potter had given her the money when she’d went shopping with Bhim two days ago. It was the fact that she was all smiles that Draco couldn’t say no to her. It was her night to shine, as she was so incredibly proud of being tattooed, as someday Draco might be as well. 

Potter had kept his distance for the next few days. Ever since he’d returned from visiting the Weasleys. Draco wasn’t sure if Potter was staying away from just _him_ , or the entire household. According to Asha, it wasn’t a big deal. Business as usual. According to Asha, everything was always business as usual. He wondered how long someone could hold a secret around her and act suspicious until she’d notice. Would she ever notice? Certainly, she’d never noticed the way Alexis looked at her. Draco wondered if the others had noticed and just didn’t say anything. 

The first time he’d seen Alexis’s admiring gaze upon Asha, he’d assumed that they were married, only to find out that they weren’t, or if they were it was rather odd that they slept in separate rooms. Then Asha had mentioned something about her ex-husband, and Alexis in casual conversation had once told Draco that he’d "never married." 

So, Alexis was rather fond of Asha, and Asha, if she knew, was relatively good at playing nonchalant. Maybe she’d thought that Potter would sack them if they shacked up together. Or, she simply wasn’t attracted to the man.

 _Business as usual_. 

A knock on the door yanked Draco out of his thoughts. It was Alexis. "Draco, Mr Potter has requested your presence at the shop," he said. 

"At the shop? Now?" Draco asked, confused, and slid his arm into the white shirt hurriedly.

"Oh, you best not wear that shirt," Alexis said.

"Why?" Draco asked, still very confused. What did Potter want? Now? After not speaking to Draco for _days_. 

"Not sure, but he said to have you stop by the shop wearing the trousers you’d be wearing tonight but just an old shirt. I reckon he’s got something planned for you."

"Planned? Like what?"

"Best hurry up if you’d like to know. The shop’s attic, to be exact."

"Okay," Draco said and Alexis left his room. Draco grabbed the first shirt he found in his cupboard and put it on. Then, he Disapparated to the attic of the shop—the non-Muggle room.

It took a while to adjust his eyes to the room. It wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t fully lit, either. There were candles lit in every corner, and a few floated near the ceiling. 

"Potter?" Draco called out as he couldn’t find Potter in the shadows. 

"Here." A voice came from the corner and Draco saw Potter stand up from the recliner chair, a glass of Firewhisky in hand. 

"You called for me?"

"Yes. I have something for you," Potter answered. His voice was even, almost unconcerned, and Draco couldn’t understand what Potter wanted from him—rather give him. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being avoided for days. 

"Take off your shirt," Potter said, and turned towards his worktable. It seemed Potter had a worktable everywhere he went. It was also just as disorganised as the rest of them. 

Draco did as ordered and turned to face Potter again; he was holding a small container and a fine paintbrush. 

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"Even though you’re not doing a showing of your own ink tonight, you still are attending a feast with one of my oeuvres," Potter said. "The notice of the feast did not provide me with enough time to ink you properly. Still, you will need to be adorned of my art. This will have to do for now."

"You’re going to paint on me?" Draco wondered as he was completely surprised by the idea. He had _no_ idea. 

"That is usually my policy," Potter said. "I cannot send a canvas up for display without any art to show for it." 

"Oh," Draco said, almost absentmindedly. And then again, before he could stop himself, he spoke, "I didn’t think I’d be seeing any of your art on me again, given that I’ve barely seen you for days."

"I was busy," Potter responded, defensively. _Too_ defensively, Draco thought. "You aren’t the only thing that requires my attention."

Right. How could Draco forget: he was a _thing_. "Alright. How will you have me?" he asked.

"Just stand here," Potter said pointing at the corner where a full-length mirror was situated. "In front of the mirror, and try to keep still."

Draco rolled his eyes at the comment. He’d only really flinched that one time, and it wasn’t even like he was being inked under a needle. It was just paint. 

Potter twisted his wrist and two of the floating candles came gliding towards them. Draco felt his body go warm, and he couldn’t decide if it was because of the warmth of the flames or if he truly was nervous again. He promised himself that he wouldn’t flinch.

He heard Potter dip the brush into the pot of paint and then the tip touched the back of his shoulder. It was cool—cooler than Draco had anticipated and his body shivered. 

"Steady," Potter whispered and Draco felt the warmth of Potter’s breath on his skin. 

Draco didn’t respond and just hung his head low, concentrating on not shivering again. Not feeling anything. He allowed his shoulders to relax and took a deep breath in. He really had no idea what was wrong with him. 

Potter worked on his back for a while and then moved to his left arm. The swishes of the brush, and the crackling of the wick from the candle was the only noise in the room for a long time. It was as if they were breathing in unison because Draco hadn’t even heard Potter breathe, every time Draco released a breath, it was like, Potter did too.

"Turn around," Potter said and Draco obliged. He didn’t dare turn his head to look at the reflection in the mirror. He wondered what Potter had been drawing on him. 

Potter seemed to stare at Draco’s chest for a while. Draco studied Potter’s face, as Potter studied him. His face was scrunched up in concentration, his tongue gently darted out touching his top lip. Was that his thinking face?

"Okay," Potter said and then turned to his table again and grabbed another pot of paint. It looked like it was a different colour. "Arms up," he said and returned back to work.

Draco stayed in the position with his arms stretched out for what felt like an hour. It was painful. But, the fact that he felt Potter’s breath on him, take in his scent, made him forget that at times. When Potter would pull away, Draco’s arms would hurt, and when Potter was close to him again, Draco had trouble breathing, so the pain didn't matter. It was the strangest exchange of emotions, and Draco focused more on that than the pain.

"Very well then. Arms down," Potter instructed and Draco followed suit. 

Potter switched out the pot of paint again for a third one and worked on the front of Draco’s right arm. Ten more minutes, and they were done. Potter grabbed his wand and placed a drying spell on Draco so the paint on his body dried evenly. Then he took his finger and traced the design, first on his chest, then the back of his neck, and then all the way down to the small of his back. Draco shivered again.

"Sorry, it is a bit chilly in here," Potter said and handed Draco a vest. It was hanging on the back of the chair that Potter had been sitting at earlier that evening. 

"It’s for you," Potter said. "So you can display the art properly. You won’t be able to show anything if you wore the shirt Avi had bought. This is better display clothes."

Draco wondered if Avi had shown all her purchases for Draco to Potter first. Did Potter have to approve them before she could present them to Draco?

"Can I see the art first? Before I put on the vest, I mean," Draco asked and Potter shook his head as if he was in disbelief. 

"Of course," Potter said. "Sorry, I get carried away sometimes." His tone was a lot friendlier than it had been all night. Perhaps he was impressed with his own artwork. 

Draco turned around to look at his reflection. His breath was almost caught in his throat when he took in the sight. It was a… "Hungarian Horntail?" he asked and Potter nodded. The front of the dragon was painted on Draco’s chest, his right arm when moved slightly gave the illusion of the dragon breathing on Draco’s arm. He turned to look at his back and saw the entire dragon drawn all over his upper body. 

Every time Draco moved his left arm, it looked like the dragon was moving, and if he moved his right, it looked as though the Dragon was breathing. It was magic, except, there wasn’t any magic involved. It was just the trick of the eye. It was sheer genius.

"Potter, this is…" Draco turned to look at Potter who seemed flustered himself. 

"Do you like it?" Potter asked, his gaze still travelling over the dragon.

"It’s bloody brilliant!" Draco exclaimed. He really was trying to not seem utterly impressed but knew that he was completely failing at that. "Is this going to be my tattoo design?"

Potter shook his head. "No. This is just a party trick," he said. "Besides, wouldn’t it be a bit cliché for me to ink you with a Dragon, and a Hungarian Horntail at that?"

Draco nodded. Potter was right, but Draco loved the artwork so much, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to be apart from it. Potter had craftily left the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm alone, but the presence of the dragon on his body almost made the Mark fade out. 

"When you’re back from your…event. Perhaps we can go over some designs for your real ink," Potter said. 

"It’s not exactly my event," Draco replied. Even after being painted on with stunning artwork, Draco still wasn’t in the mood to socialise. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to be around the likes of Pureblood wizards again. Instead of being something that was made for display, and earn an income in such a manner, Draco preferred just minding the shop for Potter.

"You best get ready, Avi will be waiting and I think the Floo call is due shortly."

"The Floo call?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, that’s usually how the Orléans operate. They contact us via the Floo when it’s time to leave, and Avi Apparates to the location instructed. Usually Bhim accompanies her, but I suppose it’ll just be the two of you today."

"Will it be—I mean—have you been?"

"I stopped going to his parties ages ago, and from what I hear from Avi, nothing’s really changed. You’ll be fine, Draco. Don’t worry. Avi will make sure of it." Potter smiled and returned to his desk and began to clean up the paint pots and the brushes he’d been using.

"You’re not coming?" Draco asked, cursing himself for sounding so needy. 

"No, I’ve got some work to catch up on. I’ll see you lot later," Potter said and didn’t turn to look at Draco again. 

Unsure of why he was just _so_ disappointed, Draco Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.

* * *

*

* * *

Even though it had been a while for Draco, the feast, he recognised was nothing short of Pureblood glory. It was the kinds of parties he’d seen his parents throw when he was a child. Every room was lit with grand chandeliers, and house-elves circulating around waiting on everyone’s hand and foot. 

The room nearly came to a daunting silence when Avi and Draco arrived. Their travelling cloaks had been taken from them, and they were on full display. 

Avi held onto Draco’s arm from the moment they’d entered the room. It looked as though she was leaning on him when he knew that she really held him to show him support. He reckoned that she didn’t want him to make _her_ look bad. 

Initially, he was self-conscious about the size and the snugness of the vest Potter had given him, but he’d realised that it really was cut to display the art best. Avi wore a long dark brown skirt that rested low on her hips along with just a piece of cloth that covered her breasts. Whatever Draco had felt about the littleness of his clothing was nothing compared to hers. However, he’d also not seen a woman dressed as little as she had and carry as much confidence as she did. Again, he found himself impressed with Avi Naya. 

He also sighed with great relief when Avi pointed out other guests at the party that were also "on display." Most of them were seated next to—what looked like—their masters; some were kneeling on the floor, and others were sat in their master’s lap. He wondered if this was what was in store in his future. Finding a rich Pureblood witch or wizard that would treat him like a pet. Unlike—unlike Potter who—

"Avi! So wonderful to see you here!"

Draco’s thought was cut short when a woman nearly jumped them and pulled Avi in for a hug. She was _beautiful_. She wore dark red robes, her hair was let loose with dark and wavy curls, and she was accompanied by two men that stood just a few feet away. It was no doubt that _this_ was the woman of the hour: the Orléans sister that held the honour of the engagement feast. 

Draco looked past her to the two men standing behind her. They bore similar features, so they had to be Jacque and Emmanuel Orléans. The younger of the two had held Draco’s gaze and didn’t flinch until Draco looked away.

Draco couldn’t help but wonder if he had been recognised for being who he was, Draco Malfoy—former Death Eater, or if it was his art that had caught the man’s attention. No one at the feast so far had given a second look for his face, but they had _all_ stared at his dragon. 

"Marie, please allow me to introduce to you my ink-master’s newly selected oeuvre, Draco Malfoy. Draco this is my dearest Marie Orléans and her darling brothers Monsieur Jacque and Monsieur Emmanuel Orléans.

Jacque Orléans only nodded at Draco, looking at him like he was just some dirt Avi had dragged in, whereas, Emmanuel took Draco’s hand and leant down to kiss it. That gesture in itself left Draco speechless and when he turned to look at Avi, her eyes were widened in disbelief. 

She caught Draco’s eyes and smiled tightly before giving her attention to Jacque Orléans again. 

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Orléans," Draco said when the other man had released it.

"Please, call me Emmanuel. Monsieur Orléans is my brother." 

Draco was a bit taken back by the man’s speech. He’d been under the impression that they’d stayed in France and Switzerland their entire life, but the man had an English accent. He’d barely heard the other two siblings talk, so he wasn’t sure about them, yet.

"As you wish," Draco said and turned to shake Marie Orléans’ hand. She seemed mesmerised by Draco’s artwork. 

"Malfoy," Jacque Orléans said, "as in…"

"Everything that went wrong in the war, Malfoy, yes," Draco quickly interjected. He smiled at the Orléans and _felt_ Avi’s gaze on him; he was too afraid to look in her direction.

"So this is what it’s come down to, then?" Monsieur Orléans said arrogantly.

"Well, it is a step above being locked up in Azkaban," Draco answered. He quickly glanced towards Emmanuel who was smiling at him.

"Not now, Brother," Marie cut in and spoke quickly. "We have guests and we do not have time for you to pass judgement on others." She turned towards Avi and started to pull her away. "Avi, come. Let me introduce you to my fiancé."

Draco stood awkwardly alone in the centre of the room as Avi was gone with Marie and Jacque Orléans had also turned and walked away. 

"Would you like to take a walk, Draco?" Emmanuel asked and held out his arm for Draco to hold. 

Draco followed suit and nodded, a bit reluctantly. "Sure," he said. It was clear from Emmanuel’s gestures that he _was_ interested in Draco, but he had to wonder to what degree. Also, Draco hoped that Emmanuel would stop treating him like he was a girl. He may have arrived at the party with Avi and was also a hired art piece, but he was also a man. He hoped Emmanuel would soon start to treat him like one. 

As Emmanuel led Draco out of the banquet hall towards the back of the mansion, he felt the gaze of the other guests on him. Some did have a look of recognition in their eyes, but most were still only looking at him for his art (or maybe just his body). It was a weird experience, Draco thought. He wasn’t used to this sort of attention. He was mostly familiar with wizards closing or slamming their doors at him, or scowling at him. No one had ever looked at him in awe, even when his name wasn’t as tainted as it was now. 

"What do you think of the house?" Emmanuel asked when they stood at the balcony looking over the gardens. 

"It’s very nice," Draco answered. The garden reminded him of his mother immediately, and Draco struggled to not let that sad thought show upon his face. 

"Nothing like the Malfoy Manor, I suppose," Emmanuel said.

Draco smiled, wondering how Emmanuel Orléans knew so much about him, and he knew almost nothing about the Orléans. "It had its moments."

"What’s happened to it now?"

Draco took in a deep sigh. It seemed like he was doing that a lot that night. "It’s Gringotts’ property now, I reckon they’ll sell it to the Ministry and the Ministry will either auction it off or turn it into a library of sorts—" 

"That’s too bad. The pictures of that place—it’s really something."

Draco inadvertently frowned. "How do you know so much about—me?"

"Well, you _are_ famous," Emmanuel answered.

"And why is it that you’re not?" he asked. Emmanuel chuckled but didn’t answer. "Are you related to Antoinette Orléans?"

Emmanuel’s gaze snapped away from the garden and to Draco’s face immediately. "How do you know that name?"

"I read," Draco said. "Is that why I’ve never heard of you? Your family has some sort of a secret and you all hid yourself from the Dark—" Draco’s questions were stopped mid-sentence when Emmanuel Orléans pulled Draco towards him and pressed his lips to Draco’s.

His body immediately stiffened up with shock. Did that just happen? He’d just met this man not ten minutes prior and he was expecting to shove his tongue down Draco’s throat? Draco had suspected that there was something going on between Avi and Jacque but what did the Orléans expect that all of Potter’s charges would feign over them? Did they expect to have some sort of control that Draco was not aware of?

Emmanuel eventually pulled back when he realised that Draco wasn’t kissing him back. 

"Sorry, I just—I wanted to do that since you arrived and I—" 

"Still have to answer my questions if you’re expecting me to kiss you back," Draco said. He couldn’t deny his attraction to the man but Draco wasn’t that easy to swoon over someone.

"So you _would_ kiss me back?"

"If you _would_ tell me more about yourself."

Emmanuel laughed and he grabbed Draco’s hand, interlacing his fingers with Draco’s. "Will you sit next to me at the feast table?"

Draco was nearly stunned speechless again. "Of course. It’ll be an honour—"

"No. Don’t. Please don’t."

"Don’t what?" Draco asked. 

"The formality—it’s fine when Avi does it. It’s fine if you’re like this with my brother, but with me—I’d rather not. I just want to be able to have a conversation. I am not made for this Pureblood formalities. I never was." 

Draco tipped his head regarding what Emmanuel had just stated. "Avi mentioned that you were doing charity work for a while. Teachers Without Borders, was it?"

"Yes. It took a lot of convincing for the family to be okay with it. But I had to remind them that by the time we were going to be known in _society_ again…" Emmanuel paused to roll his eyes. "My term would be over and I would help take over the business with my brother."

"And you’re happy?" Draco asked.

"Sure! I gave the programme a good ten years of my life, and now I am ready to be with family again. Although, I’d wished that by this time the traditions and formalities wouldn’t be so old-fashioned still, but I suppose you can’t have everything."

"So, tell me. Why have I never heard of the Orléans before? If you’re one of the oldest wizarding families from France second to the Greengrass family... _and_ , why do all of you have English accents?"

"Second to the Greengrass—Merlin, don’t let my brother hear you say that," Emmanuel said. He ran his hand through his dark black hair and looked at Draco. "So you’re certain that the Malfoys would have heard of the Orléans if there wasn’t any "magic" involved?" he asked air quoting the word magic. Clearly, he was shaken up by the mention of Antoinette Orléans, and evidently Draco’s research and hypothesis had been correct. 

Draco tried not to smile at the thought; he loved being right. "Yes. My father would have told me about them."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

Draco was immediately reminded of his first meeting with Potter at Lily’s tattoo shop. He’d asked the same thing to Potter. He chuckled, remembering Potter’s reaction and the absurdity of his life. A very attractive, rich, _Pureblood_ man wanted to snog Draco, and here he was, asking the man questions that didn’t really matter, and thinking about Potter.

Draco realised he'd been quiet for too long.

"Fine! I’ll tell you," Emmanuel said, faking exasperation. "You are right about your assumption to what you said about our past," he said, being vague as Draco had expected him to be. "When _your_ Dark Lord had come to power, my family was beckoned to serve him. My grandfather decided that we were not going to do that, so he managed to pay off some historians and our name was erased from the books as a registered Pureblood family. We were able to hide out in Switzerland under a fake name and we utilised an old _magic trick_ that’s been in our family for generations."

Draco opened his mouth to say something but Emmanuel stopped him with the raise of his hand. "That is all I’m going to say about it. Don’t ask me what the spell is because I’m unable to tell you and honestly, I shouldn’t have told you as much as I did. _But_ most of my family is already dead, the only family I do have is in this house, and they really aren’t going to care what I say to whom. We’re all bound by the Unbreakable Vow so we are unable to disclose significant details, no matter how much you try to probe me." He poked Draco’s stomach with his finger, and then his hand lingered on Draco’s skin longer than it was necessary.

Draco cleared his throat and Emmanuel quickly withdrew his hand. "So why did you tell me? Any of it?" he asked.

Emmanuel turned away from Draco and looked towards the gardens again; his hands were gripping the balcony railing tightly. He seemed to think over his answer before speaking. "Not sure," he said, sounding genuine. "I reckon no one’s really questioned me like that before, and _definitely_ no one’s even come close to guessing. I suppose I was impressed and thought you deserved an honest answer."

He looked at Draco and beamed. 

"It’s just that simple, then?"

"I’m a simple man," Emmanuel answered. Draco found that hard to believe. There were no simple men in Draco’s life. 

Their conversation was interrupted when Avi came out in the balcony looking for Draco. "There you are," she said smiling and then glanced over at Emmanuel and bowed slightly. He turned to look at Draco and rolled his eyes again. 

Draco couldn’t help but smile. This night was already so different from what he’d imagined it would be.

The look that Avi gave Draco ensured him that she hadn’t missed the exchange between Draco and Emmanuel. "Draco, we’re going to need to take our seats for dinner. The feast is about to begin."

"Draco is going to sit next to me at the table," Emmanuel announced before Draco had a chance to reply to Avi. 

The action slightly annoyed Draco. He hated being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. It was enough to deal with _that_ in the Potter household, he’d hoped that if he was out, the least he could expect was to be regarded as a person. 

"Oh?" Avi said, sounding shocked; she didn't even try to hide it.

"I assume you were going to sit next to my brother," Emmanuel added. Draco supposed he’d recognised the surprise in Avi. 

"I’m not—"

"I’ll go and make the arrangements," he said. "Why don’t the two of you wait here, and I will have one of the house-elves come by and fetch you when we’re ready." He nodded towards them and left the balcony without another glance. 

"You’re fitting in well," Avi said; she sounded impressed. 

"Just making conversation," Draco replied and turned to look towards the gardens. "It’s beautiful out here, I can see why you like coming here so much. I suppose the garden is lovely on a summer afternoon."

Avi hummed. "Yeah, I suppose it is. But, I don’t exactly come here for the gardens."

"I suppose not. Marie Orléans seems rather fond of you, too," Draco said. He turned to look at Avi who smiled softly at him. "What’s the matter?"

"Why would something be the matter?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I’ve lived with you long enough to know your smiles," Draco said. "This one hasn’t reached your eyes."

"She thinks that they’re going to move back to France after the wedding. The entire family, so—"

"Maybe you can go with them," Draco said. 

"What do you mean?"

"Well, your contract is about to be finished with Potter. By the time the wedding rolls around and they’ll be moving, you’ll be free. Maybe you can move there, I’m sure there are plenty of families that throw feasts who’d require your services. And you can travel anywhere with a Portkey."

"Is that what you plan to do?"

"I have no idea what I’m going to do. I’ve barely got _any_ ink on me."

A house-elf Apparated into the balcony and startled the both of them. "Your presence is requested for the feast," he announced and then Disapparated. 

Avi gave Draco the most peculiar look and he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d said something that was out of line. He thought that she and him were getting along so well, and whatever he’d just said had evidently broken the truce between them.

* * *

*

* * *

Emmanuel was true to his word and Avi _was_ in fact sitting next to Jacque Orléans at the head of the table. She seemed satisfied enough and Draco wondered if this was the first time it’d happened. Had Emmanuel’s desire to have Draco sit next to him changed the way things worked? Did Avi usually sit somewhere else even if she almost always _was_ Monsieur Orléans’ guest?

This could have explained Avi’s odd behaviour from earlier, Draco thought. Perhaps Draco’s presence had a bigger impact that he’d realised. More than _she’d_ realised. Bringing Draco to the feast at first seemed like an act of retaliation towards Potter, but now, it seemed to have taken a life of its own.

During the feast, as dinner was served and guests talked to the each other, Emmanuel Orléans continued to grab Draco’s hand under the table. Draco would roll his eyes and pull his hand back pretending to take a sip from his drink or use the knife to cut his meat. Unfortunately for him, Emmanuel found just the right time to flirt with Draco—exactly when Avi was looking at them.

Draco wasn’t interested in Emmanuel, not in that way anyway. He was intrigued by the man, and he sure was attractive, but attachment, romance, or even casual sex was the last thing from Draco’s mind. He also wasn’t sure how any sort of a relationship or attachment would play into his contract with Potter. 

What if it was against the rules? Draco had no idea. He didn’t even know who he’d ask. He glanced over at Avi and saw that Monsieur Orléans had leaned in and whispered something to her. She batted her eyelashes at him and Draco saw a blush creep up on her shoulders. 

He wondered if Avi was involved in a sexual relationship with Jacque, and if Potter was aware of it. Is that why Potter was so cross with her?

He dismissed the idea when Emmanuel rubbed the back of his hand on Draco’s right arm—right over the flames that Potter had painted on. He shivered with the thought of Potter’s touch. 

"Spend the night with me," Emmanuel said. 

"I’m sorry. What?" Draco nearly choked on his dessert.

"Avi’s going to sleep here tonight. She’ll be with Jacque. Why don’t you stay with me?"

"I—I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea…"

"Why? Afraid I’ll ruin your paint?" Emmanuel teased. 

"Not exactly. I thought we were returning tonight. If Avi’s going to be spending the night, and if you do not have a spare guestroom for me, I can Floo to my—I mean Potter—" Draco flustered over the words. _I’ll just Floo to my Potter? Draco, what is wrong with you?_

"Don’t be ridiculous. This mansion has over 15 guestrooms! That isn’t the point. Stay with _me_."

"You know how you suggested earlier to not to be formal with you?" Draco asked and Emmanuel nodded, his eyes wide as if Draco was going to serve _him_ dessert. "Thank you. But, I won’t."

"Oh," Emmanuel said.

"I’ll speak with Avi, and I’m sure I can just go back… _home_ tonight." Strange. Potter had always called it home when they were together, but Draco had yet to utter the words. 

"It’s alright," Emmanuel said, sounding resigned. "I’ll have a room set up for you."

"Don’t you have servants for that? House-elves? Do you do everything yourself?" Draco asked. It was odd that the man had taken charge for all his tasks that night, meanwhile, the only work Jacque Orléans had done was ask Avi to sleep in his room. 

_Sleep_. Draco wondered how much sleeping they’d be doing. 

As dinner was over and the musicians still continued to play, Emmanuel asked Draco to dance with him. It wasn’t as odd as Draco would have thought—there were plenty of people in the banquet hall, dancing. 

He looked around the room and couldn’t find Avi or Monsieur Orléans anywhere. Figuring that they’d retired for the night already, Draco’s tension alleviated and he gave in to Emmanuel’s request.

"Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay with me?" Emmanuel asked one last time as he walked Draco to the guest room.

"Do you want the formal response or the one-word answer?" Draco asked. 

"Doesn’t really matter, does it?" Emmanuel said. "It won’t be in the affirmative."

"Thank you for your company and the dance—"

"Oh, stop!" Emmanuel said, rolling his eyes again.

"No, I mean it: it was lovely. I had a wonderful time. If you can do me one more favour?"

"Name it," Emmanuel said immediately.

"Will you please make sure Avi knows that I’m here so that we can leave together in the morning?"

Emmanuel nodded. Draco offered his hand for Emmanuel to shake it and the man looked at him like he had two heads. He pulled Draco in for a tight embrace and then all but pushed him against the wall before kissing him. This time, Draco kissed him back and he could feel Emmanuel’s delight in receiving that response from Draco. His hand travelled up Draco’s back and then grabbed the lock of his hair, deepening the kiss. 

When he pulled away from Draco, Draco felt a pool of heat on the back of his spine. He had half a heart to continue the kiss, but knew better. His head had to win out on whatever else his body had wanted. He had his future to think about and this wasn’t some dark alley behind a no-name Muggle pub that would allow Draco to give into his desire. This was a very important man, he stood in a very important house, and he was probably being watched—even if it felt like they were alone.

Draco had come from a Pureblood family. He was very aware of the fact that the walls had both eyes and ears. Emmanuel might have forgotten or might not have cared, but Draco knew better. The last thing he wanted was Avi or Jacque finding out. Or worse, Potter.

* * *

*

* * *

Draco woke up to a faint knock at the door. He wasn’t sure if the person knocking intended to wake him or not, but since he’d barely slept the night before, it didn’t take him long to gain consciousness.

"Yes?" he muttered as he grabbed his trousers and pulled them on. Avi opened the door and entered the room.

"Oh, you _are_ alone," she said, sounding surprised.

"Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?" he asked. 

"I just thought—wasn’t sure if Emmanuel had spent the night here."

"If he and I were going to spend the night, we most likely would have been in his quarters, not in the guestroom," Draco said. He looked around for a shirt and realised that he’d only been wearing a vest when he’d arrived. The doorkeeper upon their arrival had collected his and Avi’s travelling cloaks. "Bloody hell," he mumbled to himself. He didn’t want to walk about the house in his clothes from last night. He wished that Avi had warned him about bringing dress robes.

It was as if someone had read his mind that a house-elf appeared at the door and knocked. "Master Emmanuel has send clothes for Draco Malfoy," he said and offered Draco a set of dark blue robes. They looked brand new.

"Oh," Draco said collecting them from the house-elf’s hands and then thanked him. The house-elf disappeared instantly, and Draco didn’t hesitate to put the clothes on. He didn’t want to return to Grimmauld Place looking completely undignified. 

"Well, we best go home then," Avi said, giving Draco a once over before leaving the room. Draco hurried after her. 

They arrived to Grimmauld Place via the Floo and Asha came rushing towards them. 

"Didn’t think you were going to spend the night," she said, and Draco realised she was looking just at him. He supposed Avi spent the night usually. 

Draco felt nervous all of a sudden. "It was late and—"

"Did you have a good time?" Asha asked. 

Draco nodded. "Yes. It was fun," he said. "I must take a bath, though. I feel exhausted and I barely slept." Asha raised an eyebrow at that and Draco chuckled. "The bed didn’t sit well with me. I think I’m already used to the mattress here."

He made his way to his room and was glad to be back _home_. He wished that he’d just returned the night before. Surely, if Asha was sceptical of his arrival this morning, Draco only wondered what Potter would have been thinking.

When he returned to the kitchen, Avi was sitting at the table, practically inhaling the eggs and toast. Draco’d never seen her eat that way before, but realised that she’d barely touched her food at the feast the night before. Poor thing must have been famished. 

"Eggs and bacon?" Asha asked and Draco nodded only too eagerly. 

"Will Potter be joining us for breakfast?" he asked.

Asha let out a hearty laugh. "Oh I don’t think Mr Potter will be joining us at all today," she said. When both Avi and Draco gave her a questioning look, she continued. "Finished off four bottles of wine last night. By himself. First, I thought he was going to go out, visit the family, but the first half bottle turned into another. _Then_ just past midnight--didn’t stop drinking until the fourth one had finished and he all but fell asleep on the sofa!"

"Really?" Avi asked, sounding fascinated. It was as if she’d never seen or heard of Potter being drunk before. She’d stayed at the house for nearly three years; surely, she must have witnessed it.

Asha nodded. "Yeah, poor Bhim had to drag Mr Potter’s arse up the stairs. He said he wouldn’t be able to handle being Apparated into his room. Bhim didn’t question him. No one wants to get vomited on by a drunken man."

"So he’s just going to sleep it off, then?" Draco asked.

"Most likely. I sent the breakfast up to his rooms and he barely touched it. Just wanted coffee." Asha clearly had thought the scenario was too comical. Draco was glad to know that when things weren’t _business as usual_ , she’d find them entertaining.

After breakfast, Draco returned to his room for a nap. When he woke several hours later, he made his way to the library to see if he could find more records in the history books on the Orléans. He was surprised to see Avi sitting—on what he’d deemed as _his_ favourite chair—reading. 

"Hi," he said quietly, making sure he didn’t disturb her too much. She looked up and smiled but didn’t say anything in return. 

Draco had hoped that he could do his research in private so instead of looking through the history books, he opted for a mystery novel and sat across from Avi. She seemed too concentrated on the page in front of her, but Draco could tell that she wasn’t reading.

They stayed quiet and even though the silence was daunting, Draco hadn’t said a word. Neither had Avi. Whatever truce they had between them, seemed to have dissolved and Draco was sad for it. He wasn’t really sure what Avi’s issue was with him, he wasn’t her competition. Not really. If she’d just tell him what she wanted, perhaps Draco could provide that for her. 

Eventually, Draco started to read his book and he’d almost forgotten all about Avi sitting there. She turned a page after a while, so he reckoned that she’d started reading again. They stayed there until it was lunchtime. 

"It’ll be like this sometimes," she said finally when they stood up from their seats and made their way to the kitchen.

"Like what?" Draco asked.

"Quiet. You get invited to a feast and then it’s quiet. There’s a lot of waiting in-between getting inked and attending parties."

"I’m used to quiet," Draco said. "Quiet doesn’t bother me. But I do hope to see some real ink on me soon, though."

She smiled at him and they took their respective seats at the table again. Potter had not come down for lunch, either. 

Dinner was also a quiet affair.

Asha knocked on Draco’s door and brought the supper to his room. She said that Avi retired early for the night and there was no reason to make a show since no one else was dining in the kitchen. Draco wondered if he should have asked Asha if that too was business as usual but refrained; he didn’t want Asha to think that he was making fun of her.

* * *

*

* * *

Draco woke up early the next day and dressed for the shop. He waited by the Floo for twenty minutes until he decided to just go to the shop himself. Someone needed to mind the desk and if Potter was sleeping in for another day, Draco really didn’t want to stay at Grimmauld Place.

It had been three days after the feast at the Orléans that Draco finally spotted Potter. He wasn’t even sure half the time if Potter was in his rooms at Grimmauld Place or had just checked himself in at St Mungo’s. It was too quiet when Potter wasn’t around and on top of that, Avi mostly kept to herself. 

Draco ate alone, read alone, and did his half-day shift at the shop. When Potter had showed up at the fireplace in the morning, Draco was more glad to see him than he’d realised he’d be. He’d been living at Potter’s house for less than a month and he was too used to seeing him. Too used to the routine that was the norm. If going away to a feast would cause such a disruption, Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted to attend any more parties. 

"How was the Orléans’ event?" Potter asked Draco on their walk for the usual coffee run. 

"It was enjoyable," Draco said. "The guests really admired your artwork; they barely recognised who’d been displaying it." He smiled at Potter and waited for a reaction. 

Potter nodded. "And the Orléans?" he asked.

"They are very gracious hosts. The feast was spectacular. I haven’t seen a Pureblood festivity like that in a very long time. And the mansion is brilliant, really. The gardens remind me of my mother's."

"So you had a good time?"

Draco was confused. Had he not identified that he did? "Yes. It was good. I slept in one of the guestrooms, and I hadn’t realised I’d be spending the night."

"Right," Potter said, sounding distant. "Let’s get the coffee."

On their way back to the shop, Draco decided he’d had enough. He needed to confront Potter about why he was being so peculiar. 

"Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you cross with me?"

"Why would I be cross with you?"

"I don’t know. Not sure if should have spent the night at the Orléans’; it wasn’t really my choice to stay. I didn’t break any rules of the contract. I didn’t overeat, nor did I indulge myself in the wine. I tried to sleep but couldn’t and then returned home to sleep off the exhaustion. Not sure if you think that I—"

"Draco," Potter said and Draco immediately stopped talking. "It’s fine. I’m not cross. I can see that you’re taking care of yourself and I think I’m ready to start the tattooing process."

"I slept alone," Draco said, making sure Potter understood what he was saying. "I don’t know what sort of _contract_ Avi has with you or with the Orléans—"

"Draco, the service-bond doesn’t forbid you from forming—friendships."

"So if you’re saying that if I wanted to have sex with someone—"

"As long as you are careful. Do not involve yourself in harm and use protective spells. I can’t control your _desires_ …"

They’d reached the shop and their conversation came to a halt as Jackson had come out of his booth and asked to speak to Potter. 

"Wait for me in the studio," Potter said and returned his attention towards Jackson. 

Draco scowled and made his way to the back of the shop. It was odd, he thought, for Potter to say that he couldn’t control his _desires_. His mind drew back to the evening when he and Alexis had all but laid down the law with Draco about how his skin _belonged_ to Potter. But not his desires? _What a strange thing to say_.

* * *

*

* * *

Draco waited for over thirty minutes in Potter’s studio. He wasn’t sure if Potter had simply forgotten or if he was punishing Draco. He was about to leave when he heard the door open and Potter entered. He had several sketchbooks in his hands and he dropped them at his work desk.

Draco watched him fuss around until Potter gestured for Draco to come to the table. Potter laid out three parchments that were essentially a silhouette of a man’s back. All three bodies had different designs drawn on them. It took Draco a minute to realise that they were sketches of _his_ back. The same lines and scarring on places where Draco had scabs and blemishes. 

"Oh," Draco said, not realising that he’d actually released a sound. 

"I have a few designs for the front, too," Potter said and started to dig through the pile again. 

Draco stared at the sketches in awe. Each design was different from the one before and it was equally beautiful. He couldn’t believe that one of these patterns was going to be etched on _his_ skin. 

"Which one are you going to pick?" Draco asked as Potter started to set down three more sketches in front of him of his chest and stomach. 

"Well, there’s the flames that go with the phoenix. I drew the dragon first, but we’d used that for the paint on your body, so I think the dragon’s out." He looked at Draco for a confirmation. Draco nodded. He didn’t want the dragon to be etched on him forever. "And the serpent—"

"You selected the three drawings that I initially drew?"

"Yeah. I had you draw the things that matter to your or say something to you and out of those, I selected the serpent, the phoenix and the dragon."

"You have the serpent tattooed on you," Draco said. 

"I do."

"And we’re not going with the dragon."

Potter shook his head. 

"So it’s the phoenix?" Draco asked and looked at the sketch again. It _was_ beautiful. Even in just a pencil drawing, it was elegant; he could only imagine what the coloured version would look like.

"I was curious to why you drew the phoenix in the first place. I mean I understand the aspiration towards the snake and the dragon—"

Draco shrugged. "It was the first thing I thought of when I thought of a ‘fresh start’." His finger traced over the drawing of the phoenix; Potter’s version was different than the one Draco’d drew. "And their tears have healing powers. Perhaps—"

"You thought you could be healed?" Potter asked; his voice a mere whisper.

"Something like that," Draco answered and he looked up at Potter whose hand had reached Draco’s face. Draco was standing dumbfounded when Potter’s finger wiped away a tear from Draco’s face. He hadn’t realised he was crying. "Oh," he said again.

"Perhaps there’s some truth to the healing powers," Potter said looking into Draco’s eyes and Draco had to back away from Potter to be able to breath.

He took a step back and turned away to walk to the window. Looking out, he wiped the tears off his face and didn’t have the courage to turn around. He was utterly embarrassed. Potter had seen him be so vulnerable. He could’ve handled being anything in front of Potter, but vulnerable wasn’t one of them. 

"So we’ll go with the phoenix, then?" Potter asked, exuberant, as if the awkward moment between the two of them had been anything but.

Draco faced Potter again, nodded and then Potter showed him the entire body design of the tattoo. 

"We’ll start at the back," Potter said. 

Draco’s back and front were going to have the same phoenix shape and the arms would be the wings. Potter explained that after the entire bird would be tattooed on, he would place the charm that would make the wings flutter. 

"What does it feel like?" Draco asked; he was nervous about feeling the wings flutter on his body. His lower half would have the flames; it was going to be the bird rising from the ashes. Would he feel the heat of the flames as they soared through his skin?

"You just feel the magic flow through you. It’s a feeling like none other," Potter said. "Didn’t Avi show you?"

"She showed me her birds moving about, but I still don’t understand how it’ll feel," Draco said. 

"It’s a different experience for everyone," Potter explained. "It’s nothing to be nervous about, trust me. I was nervous myself too, but my teacher had put my mind at ease."

Draco nodded. He still had so many questions but stayed silent. Potter decided to work on his back first so Draco lay on his stomach on the leather chair. Potter adjusted himself on his knees, one on each side of Draco's body and leaned down to draw on his back. He didn't use a stencil and instead drew with a fine paint brush directly on the skin. 

This time, Draco had expected the tingling feeling so he didn't flinch and felt rather proud of himself for it. He closed his eyes and imagined the phoenix on him. He dreamt of the day when he would be free, free to rise from the ashes of his burnt past and be something new. Something better.

He wasn't sure how long he'd lay there until he was jerked awake from his thoughts at the sound of the needle buzzing. He turned to look and he hadn't even realised when Potter had got off the chair. 

"I'll need you to be completely flat for this so, why don't you come and lay on the table over here," Potter said, gesturing towards the tattoo table that Draco had seen Potter use on some of his clients. 

Draco followed suit.

"Are you nervous?" Potter asked.

Draco shook his head.

"Good," Potter said, and for the next few hours all Draco heard were the vibrating sounds of the needle, and all he felt was the warmth of Potter's hand against his skin.

* * *

*

* * *

The day after Draco's first ink-session, which had lasted for several hours, Potter had instructed for Draco to stay at home. It was odd, Draco thought. When Potter would ink Avi, he would claim that they were done after two hours but with Draco, Potter had continued for much longer. He had nearly finished the phoenix on his back in one go and wanted to work on the flames next. Potter told Draco that they needed to take a few days off in-between the sessions.

When he wasn't working on Draco, Potter concentrated on finishing Avi's artwork. She was eager to get new ink as Jacque Orléans had requested to see her again. And much as Draco had feared, Emmanuel had invited Draco to dinner too.

* * *

*

* * *

"Well, are you going?" Avi asked him one afternoon as he was reading a book titled _The Wizarding World of Tattoos_.

"Going where?" Draco asked; he knew what she was on about, but he just wanted to be sure, nonetheless.

"The Orléans," she answered. "Emmanuel's invited you, hasn't he? Marie owled to tell me that he's postponed his trip to Paris until next week. He's supposed to go to his friend's wedding and is going to ask you to be his date."

"Oh?" Draco said. He found it highly annoying that Avi and Marie discussed him. It was like living with the reporters of the _Prophet_ who had nothing better to do than pry in his life. "I'm not sure," he added a few minutes of silence later. "I'm still a bit sore from the tattooing and..."

Her face lit up at his response. She really didn't want him to be there. Draco didn't have a problem with that. He was more than happy to turn Emmanuel's invitation down if it meant he didn't have to deal with the man's advances and keep Avi happy.

"If you think it's best," she said and sat on the chair across from him. She eyed his book with an eyebrow raised, but didn't comment.

Ten minutes later, she was gone, and Draco had never been more relieved.

* * *

*

* * *

Saying 'no' to Emmanuel Orléans' invitation was not as easy as Draco had liked it to be. Avi eyed him suspiciously when Potter opened an invitation addressed to Draco while they were at dinner. As the master of the house, Potter was allowed to open everyone's letters, and Asha and Alexis also had a habit of handing him all the mail.

"It seems Emmanuel Orléans is insisting on a showing," Potter said.

"But my tattoos aren't completely healed," Draco replied.

"He is willing to wait until they are, and then he wants to host a _private_ get-together. He's written to _you_ personally," Potter said. He handed the letter to Draco and even though Draco didn't really want to read it at the dinner table, he felt like he was obligated to. 

The letter was personal. _Really personal_. And he could see why Potter had become flustered when he'd skimmed it. Emmanuel wasn't afraid of being crass and erotic in his terminology and whatever impression Draco had given Potter about how they hadn't had sex, was clearly diminished. 

_My body aches for your need and your touch. I can barely satisfy myself as I think of your lips, your fingers on me and my aroused stated. Please, Draco, I need you to come and diminish the fire. Come. Come for me, Draco. Make me come with you_. 

Draco raised an eyebrow as he read through the words, and even though he struggled to look nonchalant about the expression used though the entire letter, his face was burning up. 

"I—"

"What you do with your time is your business," Potter said, cutting him off. He looked annoyed. "I just wish you wouldn't lie to me—"

"I haven't lied—"

"That'll be all," Potter said and stood up from his chair. Without a second glance towards anyone, he left the room. 

Draco gathered the other page of the letter that was the actual invitation to the feast. Emmanuel was hosting a small gathering for his friend who was scheduled to be married in Paris in two weeks' time. It was promised to be a small affair with only his closest friends and he wanted to invite Draco as an entertainment piece. He'd also attached an official Gringotts note stating that he was paying the scheduling fee of one hundred Galleons up front.

"He must really like you," Avi said, and grabbed the invitation from Draco's hand. He was careful to hold onto the letter that had accompanied the invitation. No one else needed to read that. Honestly.

"Will you be attending too?" Draco asked wondering if Jacque Orléans had invited her as his date for the night.

She shook her head. "No, it's for boys only. Besides, Monsieur Orléans won't be attending the stag party for Emmanuel's friend. He's invited me to something else."

"That's...kind of him," Draco said. She had a challenging look on her face and Draco wondered if she wanted him to ask what the event was that Jacque had invited her to. "Is it a display or something more...personal?"

She shrugged. "A little bit of both." After a beat of silence, she stood up and left the room as well.

As much as Draco was glad to see her leave, he realised, he really would have liked if Potter had stayed. 

Draco thought about going up to Potter's office to explain to him that he really didn't wish to go. He felt as though Emmanuel was manipulating him and the situation, but when he arrived at the door of Potter's office, there was a DO NOT DISTURB sign posted. He thought about knocking, but he saw Alexis walking down the hall and he shook his head sternly as if he was telling Draco to not even dare. 

Draco didn't dare. He didn't want to ruin whatever he had at this house. This house that was his home. Although, he had a feeling that Emmanuel Orléans' presence was really going to ruin it for him, and he needed to rectify that.

He accepted the invitation to the stag party. He told Alexis to deposit the Gringotts' note in Potter's account who eventually informed him that Potter had instructed Alexis to deposit in Draco's account instead. Draco didn't argue with that. He had no time nor opportunity to do so. Every time he tried to speak to Potter, he was either interrupted or told that Potter was too busy. 

Potter was avoiding him, and it broke Draco's heart.

* * *

*

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you like my letter?" Emmanuel asked the moment Draco arrived at the Orléans' home.

"It was...different," Draco answered. "It didn't help that the master of the house read the letter before I did and I had to—"

Emmanuel laughed. "So my plan worked, then."

"Your plan?"

"Yes. I need to show to him that you belong to me. He's wound up too tight for my likes," Emmanuel answered.

"You've met Potter?"

"Of course. I met him ages ago when Avi first frequented our parties. I wasn't always here but in the beginning he did accompany her and I met him once or twice. Then I was back at my travels and then never saw him again."

"Right," Draco said. He wasn't sure what to make of that information. He'd imagined that Potter had met Jacque Orléans but he had _no_ idea that he'd met Emmanuel, also. Was that why Potter was so uncomfortable with Draco being around him. Had Emmanuel tried to shag Potter, too?

"He's a very talented artist," Draco said, feeling the need to argue for Potter. "He's the most disciplined person I know; he has to be because of his passion for his art."

Emmanuel frowned immediately when Draco started to defend Potter. Draco reckoned, charitable heart or not, Emmanuel didn't like being contradicted or disagreed with. 

"He's using you," Emmanuel said.

"How so?" Draco raised an eyebrow. He'd barely entered the Orléans' house; he'd barely met the other guests. Emmanuel wasn't hosting a party--that much was clear. Evidently, he'd just used that as an excuse to get Draco to come.

"He's taking advantage of your impecunious state and treating you like a servant. Someone to parade around his work for free."

"It isn't free," Draco argued, as he fought to remain calm. "And I'd really rather not discuss my relationship with Potter with you."

"Do you discuss our relationship with him?" Emmanuel asked. 

Draco was about to answer when he heard the sound of Avi's voice and he turned to look. She was arm in arm with Jacque Orléans and clearly they'd been listening to Draco and Emmanuel's conversation. 

Draco looked at Jacque who seemed impassive by what he'd heard, but when he looked at Avi, she looked as though she'd just schooled her face to look unperturbed. Draco knew better, though. He lived with the woman. He knew when she really didn't care, and when she was acting. 

He sighed and turned to look at Emmanuel. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just need a moment." He nodded at Jacque and made his way to the loo. He battled an anxiety attack as he locked himself up in there. Hoping, _wishing_ that he could just stay there all night or simply Apparate back to the confinements of his bedroom.

Draco was worried by the vexed look in Avi's eyes. He'd hoped that whatever was happening with Emmanuel would die off easily or at least Draco could kill it before it escalated and now that Avi had heard them talking, it was hard to play off as Emmanuel's interest in him was nothing but a misunderstanding. 

Emmanuel had spoken negatively regarding Potter and Avi had heard it. Never mind the fact that Draco had defended Potter, because he knew that that information would be relatively insignificant.

When Draco emerged out of the loo again, Emmanuel informed him that Avi and Jacque had left for the evening. He escorted Draco to the room where the other guests were gathered. Most were drinking Firewhisky or smoking cigars, and some were playing chess. No one seemed to care about Draco's presence or give him and his flamed-tattooed arms a second look.

"Are you tired?" Emmanuel asked after they had played what seemed like their tenth game of Basilisks and Ladders. 

Draco straightened up in his leather chair and looked around the room. "Perhaps it is time to retire," he said. "If I'm staying in the same guestroom as before, I can find my own way."

"Haven't' changed your mind, then?" Emmanuel said standing up and gently pulled on Draco's arm. "I can't help but wonder what it would have been like if I'd met you before you signed on with Potter."

"What do you mean?" Draco's wobbled a bit as he walked, leaning on Emmanuel more than he would have liked, but he reckoned he'd had too much Firewhisky.

"If I'd met you before your service-bond was bought by Potter, then, I don't know, I wouldn't have to fight for you so hard. You wouldn't belong to _him_."

"And I'd belong to you?" Draco asked. 

"Yeah. You'd be mine. Mine to do whatever I choose with—"

Draco chuckled. 

"What is it?" Emmanuel asked, looking confused. "What did I say that's so funny?"

"That's really where you're wrong," Draco replied. He couldn't believe he was going to say this. After all these years, he was actually going to admit to something he'd never thought he would. "I am in a professional contract with Potter. I work for his shop. He works on me as his canvas. As his _art_. I do not belong to him. I don't belong to anyone. He'd given me a choice and I _chose_ to be his. If anything, he belongs to _me_. He's my Saviour. In so many ways that I couldn't even count. And you?" Draco scoffed. "You want me like you'd want a toy you couldn't have. If you'd met me before I _belonged_ to Potter, you'd have discarded me in the same way everyone else did."

Emmanuel's eyes were wide and there was a fiery rage there that Draco had seen in Avi's eyes earlier that night. That's when he realised that he was just so _over it_. Draco didn't need to defend himself to anyone. He didn't need to prove anything to anyone. Potter belonged to him and he belonged to Potter. It was just that simple. Why else, would after all these years, he be brought back to him? Why would they be reunited in such a way that connected them on such a deep level?

Emmanuel wanted Draco, there was no doubt about that. He'd kissed him, touched him, been aroused by him, but all Draco wanted was Potter's touch. He wanted Potter's ink on him. Potter, alone in his studio, candles floating around them. Draco could live in that room—forever. 

Draco had no idea if this realisation meant that he loved Potter, or just respected him. But, he was willing to find out. He looked at Emmanuel who had opened his mouth just to say something but Draco cut him off. 

"If my services are no longer needed, I'd like to leave now. I don't think I'll be spending the night in your guest bedroom, Monsieur Orléans. I'd rather go home. Where I truly belong."

Emmanuel nodded and Draco thought that he looked like he'd been stunned silent. Draco nodded respectfully in return and made his way towards the main room to collect his travelling cloak from the gatekeeper. Five minutes later, he'd Disapparated to Grimmauld Place and found Potter and Avi on the sofa in the sitting room near the fire. 

He still felt a bit dizzy given the amount of Firewhisky he'd consumed and the fact that he'd Apparated but he walked towards them. "Hello," Draco said, trying not to sound overly care-free. 

"Didn't expect you back so soon," Avi said. 

"Yeah, you too," Draco replied. He wasn't sure of what Avi had been telling Potter but by the look on Potter's face, it wasn't good news. 

"Have a nice night?" Potter asked and walked past Draco. 

Draco followed him up the stairs and they'd reached the door to Potter's bedroom. Potter had barely looked back to acknowledge Draco's presence. 

"Yeah it was—" _Slam_. Potter shut the door violently. "—rather eye-opening."

* * *

*

* * *

Draco didn't see Potter for nearly two weeks. He wasn't at home nor was he at work. Draco went to the shop in the mornings, following his routine the best he could, hoping that Potter would surface.

Potter eventually arrived at the shop for his scheduled customers and he barely looked at Draco when he'd entered Potter's studio. He was always too busy to speak to him and even their usual morning walks to the café had stopped. 

Any free time Potter had, he spent in on tattooing Avi. Avi barely had any skin left from her neck to her ankles and it was clear that Potter was adding the finishing touches. Soon she'd be a complete piece and then she'd leave. 

Even though Draco wasn't happy about the fact that Potter had barely shown him a drawing for his own tattoo, he was glad to know that Avi would be out of his hair soon enough. Then, he'd focus on getting Potter's attention. Even Asha and Alexis had started to notice Draco's misery. 

"Hey, Draco... What do you think about me finishing up your arm? With the flames, I mean." Jackson stumbled out of his studio space on a Wednesday afternoon and started to chat up with Draco. His appointment had phoned to reschedule and there hadn't been any walk-ins that day. 

"What do you mean? Potter does my—"

"Yeah, but Harry said you're leaving soon and you're not going to get any more work done by him."

"Leaving soon?" Draco felt the ground under him shake. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, that's what Harry said. He said that we'll have to find someone for the morning shift at the desk and that you're going to go away to Paris or Zurich, maybe..."

"I am doing no such thing!" Draco snapped. "That is utter rubbish!"

"Hey, calm down," Jackson said, raising his arms in surrender. "Maybe he misunderstood, but he seemed rather adamant about it. And a bit sad, if you ask me." Jackson winked.

Draco had half a heart to almost say that he _didn't_ ask him but stopped himself. "I—uh—I should go talk to him," Draco said as he stood up from his chair. "It's a slow day. You don't mind, do you?"

"No worries, bud," Jackson answered. "I can hold the fort while you work your shit out with Harry." Jackson winked at him again and Draco frowned. Evidently everyone around him knew that he had some _shit_ to work out with Potter.

He practically ran up the stairs towards Potter's studio and knocked on the door. 

"Potter, it's Draco."

No answer.

Draco knocked again. "Potter, I know you're there."

No answer.

Draco slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door to the studio. He looked in and Potter was hunched over his desk, a quill behind his ear, and one in his hand. He was biting his lower lip, concentrating on his drawing. 

"Potter," Draco whispered.

Potter looked up at Draco, annoyed. "I didn't give you permission to enter." Potter's voice was harsh. He was cold as he was in the beginning when Draco had first come to live with him. Any warmth that Potter had shown towards Draco in the past had all but fizzled away. 

"I know. I'm sorry but this is urgent."

"I do not have time to speak to you, Malfoy."

"Potter—"

Potter slammed his fist on his workstation and then angrily pushed all the parchments off the table. Everything went scattered and Potter's studio looked like a biggest mess as Draco had ever seen. "I do not _wish_ to speak to you right now, Malfoy."

"Potter, I don't understand," Draco said as he closed the door behind him. He didn't want Potter's employees to hear him scream this way. Potter would only come to regret it later. 

"I know you wish to leave us," Potter said.

"Leave?" Draco spoke quickly before Potter said anything else. "Who says I'm leaving?"

Potter came around from behind his desk to face Draco. It was a challenge, and all of a sudden they were in second-year and ready to duel again. "Is it not true that Emmanuel Orléans wishes that you be with him?"

"Yes."

"And he's indicated on several occasions that he doesn't like the way _I_ treat you and that you are being used?"

"Yes."

"So it's true. He's preparing to buy your service-bond off me and release you of any obligations that are required of you as my oeuvre?"

Draco didn't say anything. This was the first he'd heard of it. Emmanuel was _still_ after him? He wanted to purchase Draco off Potter?

"Fucking hell," Draco muttered and Potter scoffed. Draco realised that he gave the wrong answer to him. "That bloke doesn't give up does he?" he added immediately.

Potter raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I told him I wasn't interested. I didn't wish to be with him—belong to him. I said that I was happy being here. With you." Draco hoped that Potter could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Oh," Potter whispered. "Perhaps _she_ misunderstood."

Draco didn't need to ask who Potter was talking about. "Why didn't you ask me when you'd found out about it? This...misunderstanding?"

"I—I didn't wish to believe it. But, then his letters—"

" _His_ letters?" Draco was confused again. Everyone around him was so eager to make decisions for him, spread stories, and jump to conclusions. It was infuriating. 

Potter walked to the corner of his studio and opened a drawer from the table that was settled there. He returned with a few letters in tow. Some were opened and some were still sealed. "They're from _him_ ," he said. Potter offered them to Draco. 

Draco grabbed the letters from Potter's hand and he all but crumbled them in his fist. He used his other hand to collect his wand from the back pocket of his jeans. " _Incendio_." The letters burst into flames and were soon dissolved into thin air. "Proof enough for you?" Draco asked. He stepped up to Potter, closing the distance between them, and ran his hand through Potter's hair. 

Potter closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Then he suddenly snapped them open, as if he realised what he was doing. He looked at Draco, his eyes giving away his hurt, his warmth. "Don't toy with me, Malfoy," he whispered.

"Potter, I don't wish to leave. I wish to stay. As your canvas. As yours—"

_"Harry, are you here?"_

Whatever Draco was going to say, which he himself wasn't entirely sure of, was interrupted when Avi barged into the studio.

"Oh," she said, sounding genuinely startled. "Made up then, I see."

"Just a misunderstanding," Draco said before Potter had the chance to say anything. He smiled and looked at Potter. He brushed Potter's hair off his forehead and straightened his glasses. "We're all good now, aren't we?"

Potter cleared his throat and nodded. "Right," he said and turned to grab his wand and pick up the mess he'd just made, off the floor. "Avi, why don't you settle on the chair?"

"Draco, I've got some designs for your phoenix in my office at home. Bhim will let you in, and you can look at them. I'd like your input by the end of the week."

"You...you want me to go into your office? Unsupervised?" Draco flustered over the words. All of a sudden, his nonchalance had vanished and he was nearly well panicking. Potter never allowed anyone in his office, except for Alexis.

"Yes," Potter said, matter-of-factly. He looked at Draco as if he didn't understand Draco's hesitation. "I've drawn up some ideas for the background, besides the bird and the flames, and I'd like you to look at it."

"Erm...alright," Draco said and left the room. He went up the steps to the attic and Disapparated to his bedroom in Grimmauld Place.

* * *

*

* * *

Potter's offbeat schedule had finally come to an end and he joined the rest of the household for dinner that night. He seemed to be in a good mood and didn't even flinch when another owl arrived from the Orléans' household.

"What does it say?" Avi asked as Draco hadn't even bothered to be troubled by it. If it was for him, he would simply burn it and if it was for Avi, then, it wasn't really his business. 

He was still thinking about the designs he'd picked up earlier that day when he was in Potter's office.

Alexis had let him in with a knowing smile and Draco couldn't help but grin in return. Alexis stayed with him for a few moments and then instructed him: 'do not touch anything,' and left. Draco was ecstatic. 

He sat on the leather chair behind Potter's desk and imagined Potter working there—late at night—hunched over the desk and damaging his posture. He saw one of Potter's coats hanging on the coat rack and he walked up to it and inadvertently took a whiff. It smelled like Potter. Everything in that office was _Potter_ and Draco wanted to live there. 

A half an hour later when Alexis had returned to announce that Potter was going to join them for dinner, he quickly grabbed the drawings and headed to his bedroom. He didn't want to get caught creeping around Potter's office. It was attached to Potter's bedroom and he only regretted not being able to peek in there.

"It seems that the Orléans are moving back to France, for good. They are selling their estate in England, and are having a goodbye feast." Potter's tone was unconcerned. He read over the invitation and handed it to Avi.

"We are all invited," Potter added. "You, Draco and myself."

"What?" Avi nearly screamed her astonishment. 

"They're leaving?" Draco asked, calm. He didn't know why Avi was so shocked with the news. She was the one who'd mentioned it to Draco at Marie Orléans' engagement party.

"So it seems," Potter answered. "I will not be able to attend the feast as I have plans all this week. Avi, you can answer for yourself and whatever Draco decides to do." He abruptly stood up from his seat at the table and left. 

Draco wondered what plans Potter had. If he really had any, or if he just didn't wish to attend the feast.

He watched Potter leave and then turned to look at Avi. "Perhaps, you should go alone," Draco said. "If it's their last few evenings here, maybe, you'd like some alone time with Monsieur Orléans and I would only get in the way." 

Avi still looked fairly distraught. Draco chose to refrain from teasing her. He wasn't _that_ person anymore, and truthfully, he had other business to attend to. "When is the feast?" he asked.

"In three days."

"Oh, brilliant. You best write back right away, then." He smiled softly at her and also stood up to leave the room. It had been an emotional day and all he wanted at that moment was sleep. He felt bad for Avi; he really did. She cared for Jacque a lot, but Draco was just glad that Emmanuel was going to be out of his life, forever.

* * *

*

* * *

Avi returned the RSVP for the invitation the next day. She'd asked Draco at least three times before she sent it off, just in case he'd changed his mind. He hadn't. He wasn't interested in doing displays for the Orléans. He wasn't really all that interested in displays at the moment, no matter who they were for. He wanted to mend things with Potter. He wanted to concentrate only at his job and his ink.

He cared for nothing else.

* * *

*

* * *

Much to Draco's relief, Marie Orléans invited Avi to their estate the night before the big feast. Draco knew and assumed that Potter also suspected that it really was Jacque Orléans who had invited her via his sister's owl, and Draco was glad for her. She had been too frantic ever since she had heard about their move back to France. With her ink nearly done and her contract time with Potter almost over, perhaps she would get some closure and could concentrate on what she wanted to do for her future.

Draco still had lots of time left at the Potter house and was glad for it. As much of a workaholic as Ann was and as flirtatious Jackson was, Draco was happy working with them at the shop and couldn't see himself doing anything else for a while. Time spent alone with Potter on his tattooing chair was also a reward on its own.

With Potter busy at the shop all day, Avi's visit at the Orléans', Alexis' trip to the market, and Asha busying himself with household chores, Draco spent his quiet days in the library again reading another book on Wizarding Tattoos. He found one that was signed personally to Potter from someone named Sebastian Guna.

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_I give this book to you on your last day of apprenticeship and all I have to say is that I've been impressed every day by your skill, which is nothing short of rare and distinct. You have been one of my favourite pupils, and not just because of our unique connection, but also because of your sheer talent. You know that you must come visit me whenever you feel the need. It won't be the same without you. I will miss you terribly._

_Ever so yours,_  
 _Sebastian Guna_.

* * *

"Unique connection?" Draco wondered if something had happened between Potter and his teacher. There was nothing else in the book to indicate where Sebastian Guna lived, but Draco did remember Potter telling him that he'd travelled a lot and apprenticed with several different styles of tattoo artists. 

After reading the note, Draco placed the book back where he'd found it and looked through others. He wanted to see if any of the other books had any personal messages in them for Potter. 

He was out of luck. An hour later, he was surrounded by books on the floor as he looked through them frantically. He was so occupied with his search that he hadn't even heard someone enter the library.

" _Draco_?"

Draco looked up desperately from the mess of his books and was startled and slightly embarrassed to see Potter standing by the door. 

"Potter!"

"Is everything alright?" Potter raised an eyebrow and looked at the pile of books that surrounded Draco.

"Yes! Sorry..." Draco reached down to pick up a few and began piling them on the table. "I just got carried away with...research," he said. 

"I can see that," Potter said, to Draco's relief, Potter's tone was light and he didn't sound angry.

"Asha says I need to go out more," Draco said, as he continued to pile the books, "but, I barely have anyone to leave the house with me. Avi—" He sighed. He didn't want to speak ill of Avi, she was only going to stay at the house for a short time now. He wasn't going to hold any grudges against her. 

"Oh," Potter said, sounding disappointed or confused. Draco stopped and turned to look at him. "I'm leaving—I've got a Portkey scheduled for Romania and well—do you want to come with?"

"To _Romania_?"

"Yes, I've asked Ann to handle the shop for a couple of days as I go on holiday and—"

"What's in Romania?"

"Friends." 

Draco thought Potter was being oddly cryptic. "And you want me to come with you?"

"Yeah. If Asha says that you need to get out more—that means—it isn't business as usual, so I'd take her advice if I were you."

"Okay, when do we leave?" Draco asked. He wouldn't mind a change of scenery and if it was with Potter, well that was even better. He didn't trust Emmanuel, the man might just come and kidnap him while Potter was on holiday.

"In twenty minutes," Potter answered. 

Draco's eyes widened and he nearly panicked. He had to get ready in less than twenty minutes!

Potter smiled softly at him and then nodded towards the door. "Why don't you go and pack a few things for two days, and I'll put the books away."

"Oh," was all Draco said, and he was mortified at the fact that Potter would have to clean up after him. What was wrong with Draco, anyway? He'd become obsessed with finding more about Potter's relationship with his teachers, and he'd hoped to get more information on Sebastian Guna.

"Come on, then," Potter said, and Draco was out the door in no time. 

He ran to his room and packed a set of clothes. He wasn't sure what he should have packed. Was he going as Potter's guest or as his oeuvre? If he were accompanying Potter, would he be expected to show his artwork to those around them? These were questions Draco should have asked Potter before he was in his room packing. He eventually folded up a pair of jeans, a few long sleeved button-down t-shirts and a pair of wizarding robes. He stuffed everything in small bag and grabbed his wand. He didn't care about his clothes getting wrinkled as he'd have to perform an ironing charm on them, regardless. 

Potter knocked on the door to check in with Draco. 

"Are you ready?" Potter asked.

"Yes. Just about. How are we going, where is the—?"

"The Portkey is set up at the Burrow, so we'll have to Apparate—" Potter stopped talking when he must have seen the look of sheer fear on Draco's face. "Don't worry, no one is at the Burrow," he said.

"Oh," Draco mustered out.

"The Weasleys are on holiday, as well, we might see them in Romania tomorrow evening. If we stay that long," Potter added.

"Erm. Are you sure that I should come along, then?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't you?"

"I'm not sure. If it's a family affair, then I best—"

"It's not a family affair. I am going to see my friends and it just so happens that the Weasleys are going there tomorrow, too. We might see them; we might not. If you're _that_ afraid then we'll leave before they arrive."

Potter didn't wait for Draco to respond and left his room. Draco dutifully followed as he was suddenly extremely nervous. Why would Potter leave early if it bothered Draco?

They arrived at the Burrow and Potter hurried towards the shed where he grabbed a broom before they made their way to the object that was serving the purpose as a Portkey. It was an old boot that was settled in the corner of the shed.

"Why is it here?" Draco asked.

"What is what here?"

"The Portkey? Why at the Burrow?"

"It's an on-contact Portkey," Potter answered. "So it needs to be at a safe place."

"If it's an on-contact Portkey, that means, there's no time limit." Draco narrowed his eyes at Potter. "Why did you tell me that I only had twenty minutes to get ready?"

Potter gave Draco a sly smile. "I wanted to see how fast you could get ready."

"So you were planning on taking me along—"

"Yeah. I was going to ask you, regardless," Potter said shrugging. "So are you ready?"

Draco scowled at Potter as they both touched the boot together. He was jerked forward and his feel left the ground. He felt Potter grab his arm as his other hand clutched onto the broom tightly. And before he knew it, it was over. He practically fell on top of Potter who caught him before Draco hit the ground. 

"Easy there," Potter said and his arm was snaked around Draco's waist. 

"We're there?" Draco asked, breathing heavily. 

"Yeah, just outside Charlie's village. That's why we need the broom."

"Charlie's village?" Draco asked. 

"Yeah." They landed outside a small hut, and Draco watched as Potter placed a protection charm around the Portkey and the tiny shed. "I told you I'm visiting friends. Charlie Weasley and his partner."

Draco didn't say anything and somehow understood his conversation with Potter from before. He was visiting Charlie Weasley, that's why the Weasleys were arriving tomorrow. Where were they tonight, then? _And his partner_? Charlie was gay?

Potter had told Draco a while back that he'd lived in Romania for a year. Did he stay with Charlie?

"So we have to fly to their house. They don't like unannounced guests so their wards are quite guarded." Draco gave him a confused look. "But they're expecting me," Potter added. "No need to worry."

There was something odd about Potter's demeanour and the way he was speaking. The night wasn't that cold but it looked like Potter was shivering. If it wasn't with the cold _then_ it was with anticipation. Draco had watched Potter for a while now, he'd observed Potter's every move. The cool and calm appearance that he always had on wasn't all there tonight. Why was Potter nervous?

"Well, I'm ready when you are," Draco said. 

Draco tried not to think about the fact that the last time he was on a broom with Potter, Potter had been saving his life. Potter, who could have just let him burn in the fire. And here they were, nearly ten years later, Potter was flying them to some random house in a remote village in Romania. _And_ he was nervous. 

Potter mounted the broom and Draco followed. He wrapped his arms around Potter, inadvertently leaning closer, and took in his scent. Under him, Potter fidgeted a bit and Draco thought that his actions made Potter awkward. 

"Sorry," Draco said and pulled back.

"No! It's fine," Potter said. "So we're off then." Without waiting, Potter took off and Draco tightened his grip around him again. This time, Potter didn't tense up as much as before, and Draco relaxed as well.

The flight wasn't very long and when they'd arrived, a tall muscular man with bright red hair was waiting for them. He waived at Potter the moment they had flown close enough to the small house. 

"Harry!" he exclaimed and Potter all but jumped off the broom, leaving Draco behind and hopped into the man's arms for an embrace. 

Draco watched them for a short while. If they had actually kissed, he would have thought that they were long lost lovers reuniting after years. But there was no kiss, just a very tender embrace that still left an odd upset feeling in the pit of Draco's stomach. 

"Draco Malfoy," the man, who Draco assumed was Charlie Weasley, said. "In the flesh. I hadn't really believed it at first. But, here you are."

Draco hopped off the broom when Charlie offered his hand for him to shake. Potter came by his side and collected the broom from him. Draco shook Charlie's hand. "It's nice to meet you..."

"Charlie," Potter said. "Draco this is Charlie. I'm not sure if you've ever met."

"Not officially," Charlie said, squeezing Draco's hand and led them into his home. "Sebastian has been waiting all day for you to arrive."

"Sebastian?" Draco hadn't realised that he'd said the name out-loud until both Charlie, and Potter stopped to look at him. "Sorry, I—"

 _Sebastian_. Draco followed Charlie and Potter into the house and looked around. Could it be possible? He'd come across the name earlier that day and could he be meeting Sebastian Guna tonight? Potter had said that he was visiting Charlie and his partner. Draco remembered the words: _unique connection_ —

"Harry!"

Draco was yanked out of his thoughts when another man entered the room. He wore a short-sleeved shirt with black trousers and his arms were covered with tattoos. Leaves moving about as if they felt the breeze in the room and Draco stared at them in fascination. 

"Draco, this is my former tattoo master, Sebastian Guna. Remember when I told you that I stayed in Romania for a year? I stayed here with him and Charlie."

"Oh, that's wonderful. It's an honour to meet you," Draco said shaking the man's hand and felt pleasantly relieved. He straightened up his shoulders and all the tension from his back seemed to have gone away. He was in Potter's former teacher's house and there was no sexual history or connection between them. He smiled at the thought and realised that they were all looking at him strangely.

"Sorry. I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment," Draco said and cleared his throat. He looked at Potter who gave him the oddest expression. His eyes were roaming around Draco's face as if he was trying to understand what Draco was thinking. Draco smiled again and looked around the room once more. "I like your house," he said, in efforts to remain polite.

"Thank you," both Sebastian and Charlie said in unison. 

"Sebastian's shop is in the back and my work isn't terribly far from here so it works for us," Charlie said. Then he scowled for a moment. "Why are we all still standing. Come, have a seat."

"I hope you're hungry," Sebastian said and left the room.

"He's been cooking all day. You'd think that the family was coming tonight and not tomorrow night." Charlie shook his head as he poured small amounts of Firewhisky in four glasses. 

"What's the occasion?" Draco asked. He figured that there had to be one if everyone was going to come to their home in Romania. There was definitely a party planned. 

Charlie smiled and looked down into his glass, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

"Ten years and you're still like this," Potter said. He looked at Draco and spoke softly. "Bonding ceremony. Charlie and Sebastian have been together for ten years and there's a bonding ceremony in the morning and the family arrives late afternoon for the celebrations."

"They won't be here for the ceremony?" Draco asked.

Charlie took a swig of his drink. "No, the ceremony is supposed to be small. Just a magical celebrant and one or two witnesses. It's not like a wedding ceremony. So we're just having the formal part in the morning then, the family will arrive for all the drinking festivities."

"They're good at that," Potter said smiling and finished his Firewhisky in one gulp.

"I'm so glad they won't be here in the morning," Sebastian said as he walked into the room carrying a plate of hors d'oeuvres. "I'm not sure if I would have agreed if it wasn't just you, Harry."

"Anything for you guys," Potter said and grabbed a chunk of Bruschetta off the tray. 

"Well then, Draco," Sebastian drawled, turning his attention towards Draco. "I see you've been looking at my ink since you arrived." Draco gulped nervously and bit his lip. "Oh, he's adorable." Sebastian turned to look at Potter, who frowned for a moment before he schooled his face. 

"Well, I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." Sebastian raised an eyebrow and Draco turned to look at Potter, apprehensive of what was being asked of him.

Potter rolled his eyes. "He's just trying to intimidate you," he said. "He's my former teacher. He wants to see your ink. So he can criticise me."

"Oh. Shall I—" Draco started to remove his jacket but hesitated for a moment. He looked at Charlie Weasley nervously.

"I can leave the room if it'll make you feel better," Charlie said. 

"No. It's fine," Draco said and removed his jacket. "This has to be my lifestyle someday, right? And I've already been put on display, so—"

Draco saw Potter look away for a brief moment, like he was trying to hide something. His hands turned into small balls of fists, and then he breathed out and looked up at Draco as if nothing had just happened. 

Draco unbuttoned his shirt and took it off as well. He looked at Potter again. "Do I need to remove my trousers?"

"No, that's fine," Sebastian said standing up and walking towards Draco. All of a sudden, his flirty tone was gone and he sounded stern. He placed his hand on Draco's shoulder and traced the phoenix on his back. Draco felt his fingers over the artwork and he'd leaned in, close to Draco's skin, scrutinising it.

"It's near perfection," Sebastian mumbled.

"Just near?" Potter teased and then he came close to Draco as well. 

"Don't get arrogant, kid," Sebastian replied. "The flames are interesting. They're different than what I've seen you draw on people before."

"That's because Draco designed them," Potter answered.

"Oh, he draws, too?" Sebastian seductive tone had returned. 

"And can work with a needle," Potter answered. He grabbed Draco's shirt and handed it to him and then rolled up his own sleeve to show the serpent to Sebastian.

"Oh I see you're finally taking the next step," Sebastian said and started to examine the tattoo closely on Potter's arm. 

Draco was nervous again and he took a seat next to Charlie on the sofa. Charlie handed him another shot of Firewhisky. "They'll be like this for a while," he said. 

"What's the next step?" Draco asked. 

"Harry taking an apprentice," Charlie answered. 

"The best thing a tattoo master can acquire is someone who wants to be their student. Harry wants to show his teaching skills to Sebastian, so he can move on from just being an artist to a mentor."

Draco leaned back and watched Sebastian and Potter speak to each other. Now he realised why Potter had brought him there. He thought it was weird that Potter was going to include him into something so intimate like the bonding ceremony of his friends, but now Draco realised that Potter wanted to show Draco off to his teacher. Not just Potter's talent as an artist with his ink on Draco, but Draco's ability to learn and tattoo—that would make Potter look good. 

Draco felt oddly proud in that moment. Their relationship was so different than what he'd thought it would be when he'd first arrived at Potter's shop. It was so different than what Emmanuel had accused him of and of what Avi shared with Potter.

He smiled and thought about how proud he made Potter. How proud he was to be Potter's. He took a sip of his drink and felt the set of eyes that were watching him. He turned to look at Charlie who was just grinning at him.

"What?" Draco asked, confused.

Charlie shook his head and shrugged. He got up off the sofa and cut into the conversation that Potter and Sebastian were engrossed in. "Can we eat now or are we going to talk shop all night?"

"Before we do that, I want Draco to officially be initiated as Harry's apprentice," Sebastian said.

Draco realised he was the only one sitting on the sofa as the three men were looking down at him. "How do we do that?" Draco asked, standing up.

"Get your wand," Sebastian said and when Draco did, he pulled Draco towards Potter. "Touch the serpent with your wand and cast the spell."

"What spell?" Draco asked.

"You haven't taught him?" Sebastian scolded Potter.

"I—uh—our sessions were interrupted for a few weeks due to some—misunderstandings," Potter said, flustering over his answer.

Sebastian groaned in disbelief, or so Draco thought. 

"Draco," Potter said. "You're going to place your wand in the middle of the tattoo and say: _Effio Vivere_. Okay?"

Draco nodded. 

"Are you sure he's ready?" Sebastian asked, sounding unconvinced. 

"He's ready," Potter said, before Sebastian had a chance to add something else to his question.

"The midsunder—"

"He's ready," Potter insisted.

"I'm ready," Draco said. He pulled out his wand and both Sebastian and Charlie stepped away from the two of them. It would have been comical, given Draco and Potter's history, if he weren’t so damn nervous about it. " _Effio Vivere,_ " Draco muttered and he saw the serpent on Potter's arm move. 

Draco almost squealed at the sight. He looked at Potter who was staring right at Draco, his eyes gleaming with pride. "You did good, Draco," he said.

Draco smiled at him and eventually, Charlie dragged them to the kitchen for dinner.

* * *

*

* * *

Charlie and Potter were in the kitchen cleaning up as Sebastian had returned to his studio looking for a book that he wanted to give Draco.

"Are you staying tomorrow night?"

Draco had left the two friends alone making an excuse about looking for the loo. When he returned, he heard them talking and decided to not interrupt right away.

"Not sure. I don't think Draco's ready for—the Weasley convention. I practically grew up with your family. When I'd mention the chance of them being here, he'd panicked. I don't want to—"

"You're awfully worried about him."

"He is my charge."

"You know he's in love with you, right?"

Potter dropped the dish he was holding. "What?"

"I watched him. When you were speaking with Sebastian. You're proud of him and he's—I'm rather positive of it."

"Charlie, don't be an idiot. He just cares about—" Potter sighed.

"What is it?" Charlie's voice was worried as if he'd seen an expression on Potter's face that Draco could not from where he was standing.

"A few days ago, I thought—I thought something would have happened between us. But Avi had walked into the room and then the moment was gone. He—I still don't trust that he won't just run away..."

"But you're taking him on as your apprentice?"

"Yes." 

"You know what that means..."

"I know exactly what that means."

What did it mean? Draco had no idea. His heart broke a little when he heard that Potter still didn't trust him. Potter thought that he was going to _run away_? Even after he told him — assured him — that he wasn't going to take Emmanuel Orléans' offer to purchase his service-bond.

"Draco!"

Sebastian walked into the room and startled him, and Draco turned away from the kitchen. Whatever conversation Potter and Charlie were having was also halted.

Sebastian presented Draco with a book titled _Basic Fundamentals of Wizarding Tattoos_. "I know that there are plenty of books in Harry's library that you can look over, but I wanted to give you a signed copy," he said. 

Draco looked down at the author and realised that it was written by Sebastian Guna. "Oh, that's brilliant!" Draco said and opened the cover to find a note from Sebastian. "This is really—very thoughtful of you." He grinned at Sebastian and then turned to show the book to Potter.

"Interesting that _I_ did not get a signed copy," Potter teased. 

"You already have a book from me with my congratulations. You're not _that_ special, Harry."

"You will be like this all night, won't you?" Charlie asked and shook his head. "Your things are still by the door, Draco. Let me show you where you and Harry are going to sleep tonight." He grabbed Draco and Potter's bag from next to the sofa and walked up the steps.

Draco followed him, slightly panicking that he and Potter were going to be sleeping in the same room. This was right after Charlie had announced to Potter that he believed that Draco was in love with him?

"Because Sebastian works from the house, his studio is set up in the back. We don't have a lot of space, so unfortunately, we only have one guestroom," Charlie said, as if he'd not noticed Draco's dismay at all.

He opened the door to the guest room and there were two beds on each corner of the room. Draco sighed with relief. At least, he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Potter.

"You can settle your things and then come down and meet us for a drink if you'd like. But there's no pressure, we won't be staying up too late because of the early morning ceremony."

Draco nodded and sat on the bed that was on the left side of the room. "I think I'll just stay here for the night. I don't want to interrupt you. You probably haven't seen Potter in a long time, and I am a bit tired."

"Are you sure?" Charlie gave Draco a once over. "If you change your mind, feel free. I won't mind if you come and rescue me from their shop talk." He grinned at Draco and then left closing the door behind him. 

Draco undressed quickly and settled in bed. He had little to no intention of going downstairs and embarrassing himself further. He knew he liked Potter—wanted to impress him, but _love_? Was he in love with Potter? Was it _that_ obvious?

He didn't stay awake very long. It had been a very long day and sleep overcame him quickly. He woke, what he thought, was a few hours later. The room was dark and the door opened abruptly; Draco he sat up, alarmed. 

It was Potter and he was stumbling into the room. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Potter said and all but crashed on the empty bed. 

"It's fine. Are you alright?" Draco asked, getting up off the bed.

Before Potter stumbled onto the floor, Draco grabbed Potter by the waist and steadied him. Potter held on to Draco's shoulder and then leaned against the mattress. 

"You're...you're not wearing anything."

"It's hot up here and I just thought I’d sleep in my boxers," Draco said, as he settled Potter on the bed. "How much did you drink, Potter?"

"Yeah, it's hot in here. Of course," Potter mumbled.

"What's the matter? It's not like you haven't seen me naked before..." Draco trailed off. Draco had undressed in front of Potter enough times to not even give it a second thought anymore. What was Potter's problem tonight?

"Right. I should..."

"Lean back," Draco said, and as Potter lay on the mattress, Draco helped take his shoes off. Potter removed his shirt and all but threw it across the room. 

Draco sighed and shook his head.

"What?" Potter scowled.

Draco walked towards where Potter had thrown the shirt, picked it up, and folded it. "This isn't your home, Potter. There's no Asha or Alexis here to clean up after you." He placed the shirt at the side table. "Do you need help with your trousers?"

"No!" Potter answered, agitated. "I'll just sleep like this."

"You'll be hot."

Potter didn't say anything, just shrugged. "Alright." Draco pulled the covers over Potter's body and turned to go towards his own bed. 

"Draco..." Potter drawled and Draco turned to look at him. He didn't say anything and just waited for Potter to talk. "Thanks," he whispered a minute later. Draco couldn't help but wonder if Potter wanted to say something else but had stopped himself. He closed his eyes and Draco waited until Potter's breaths evened out and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. 

Draco leaned in and removed Potter's glasses and placed them next to the shirt. He waited and watched Potter's sleeping face for a few moments. His nose twitched and he mumbled something before turning away.

Draco had seen some of the tattoos on Potter's chest and arm, but never his back. There was a giant—incomplete—stag resting there. As if it too was sleeping with Potter. Draco had watched Potter for months finishing up ink after ink, and the way Potter would draw on Avi and Draco. He now knew an uncompleted artwork if he saw one, and the stag, though brought to life, was unfinished. 

Draco chuckled to himself; not really sure what he was doing, and why he was standing like that next to Potter's bed. He ran his fingers through Potter's hair and then turned away again.

Draco stopped with a jolt when he saw Sebastian standing at the door. Apparently, he'd watched the whole thing. Sebastian's expression was inscrutable and Draco didn't dare move. He had no idea what he would do, or say, or what Sebastian would say to him. So, he just stood there.

"He's fragile," Sebastian whispered finally, filling the awkward silence that was becoming too daunting for Draco.

"I don't— I mean, I wasn't—"

"Don't abandon him," Sebastian said before he moved away from the door and left.

* * *

*

* * *

The ceremony had, indeed, been a quiet affair. Draco hadn't attended a wedding since he was a child, and had _never_ participated in a bonding ceremony for a gay couple. He figured the rules were the same: the officiator speaks, the couple makes their vows, the witness recites the spell that binds them for life. What Draco hadn't anticipated was the tears he'd have when Sebastian promised to care for Charlie for the rest of his life, or when Charlie accounted for their first meeting and how he'd fallen for Sebastian since their first date.

It also didn't help that as they pledged for their bond, Draco was in direct sight of Potter, and the look on Potter's face as he watched the couple was overwhelming. The cool and calm demeanour that Potter almost always had with Draco, or the friendly and kind appearance he sported with Asha and Alexis had vanished. Draco watched Potter as he watched the two affianced men, and he saw a sort of love and longing that he'd never seen before.

Potter was happy for his friends, genuinely happy, and there was something else. Draco couldn't figure out what it was. Was it jealousy? He couldn't help but wonder if Potter had ever been in love with one of these men, or was it envy that he didn't have what they had? Perhaps it was just sadness. Draco could see that. Potter was, for the lack of a better word, alone. He had his employees at the shop and at the house. He had Avi—for a short while more—but, he didn't date. He rarely went out on his own and the nights Draco and Avi were out for a viewing, Potter was home alone, drinking.

Maybe it was sadness. Maybe it was the fact that he hid behind his work and didn't date, and here he was, a witness to his mentor's marriage. Why hadn't Potter found someone to be with? What was stopping him?

* * *

*

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

They arrived back at Grimmauld Place in the late afternoon. The house was eerily quiet and Draco reckoned that Alexis and Asha had probably gone off to the market for supplies again.

"Are you going to go back tonight?" Draco asked as he watched Potter gather his belongings and head upstairs towards his room. 

"Go back?" Potter turned and gave Draco a confused look.

"For the celebrations with the family? For Charlie and Sebastian."

"Oh, no. It's a private affair and I—"

"You witnessed their bonding ceremony, Potter. There isn't anything more private than that."

Potter chuckled. "I know, but sometimes I don't feel the need to involve myself in all their family affairs. No matter what they say, I'm _not_ part of the family. Not really. I was there for Charlie today because, he means the world to me, and I was Best Man at Ron and Hermione's wedding but—"

"Is it because they thought you were going to marry into the family and you didn't?"

Potter laughed again. "I also had believed that I was going to marry into the family, but not in a way one would have thought."

"I don't understand."

Draco always found it odd that his conversations with Potter was always when they'd been standing around awkwardly. They never talked about anything that mattered at the workstation or on the dining table...just standing around...uneasily in his office or on the steps—

"I initially went to Romania when Ginny and I broke up, because I had heard that Charlie was gay. So, I went to visit him. I thought that I dated Ginny, and was best friends with Ron...I knew I liked men more than I liked women, so I went to try to date Charlie."

"You did what?" Draco barked out his question as he tried to not laugh. That sounded absolutely ridiculous, and Draco knew a thing or two about ridiculous. 

"I know, it was the stupidest idea I ever had," Potter said, laughing himself. Draco liked the sound of Potter's laugh; he wanted to hear it forever. 

"So what happened?" Draco asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

"I met Sebastian. At first, I was jealous. But, I saw the way they were, and I realised that I only was trying to fall in love with Charlie for a personal gain, and that _really_ was a _very_ stupid thing. I didn't know anything about him, he didn't know anything about..." Potter sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "So I began taking interest in Sebastian's work and he taught me. He was the one who gave me—sort of a learning curriculum, where to travel, who to study under. Then I followed my own path and went back to him for another year. Then I met Lena and you know the rest of the story."

Draco nodded. He remembered the words Sebastian had said to him. _He's fragile_. What did Sebastian really mean? Do they think that they broke Potter's heart?

"Are you still jealous?"

Potter shook his head. "No. Not at all. They are like brothers to me, and I realised that I didn't even find Charlie attractive. I mean, he's attractive, just not my type. And I—" He paused and looked towards the floor. "Anyway, I should get going. I've got some more drawings planned to finish Avi's work off and yours—"

"Potter..."

"I'll see you later, Draco." Potter didn't wait for a response and trudged off towards his room. 

Draco, feeling resigned himself, locked himself in his room. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling for over thirty minutes when he abruptly got up and made his way towards his workstation. If Potter was going to work on designs, then Draco was going to work on his own designs, too!

He searched for a long piece of parchment, paint and a few brushes; he started with what he remembered for his memory. The stag. He was going to finish it, for Potter.

* * *

*

* * *

Asha knocked on Draco's door in the evening as he'd barely stepped out of his room. "Mr Potter has requested to get his dinner delivered to his studio, so I wanted to check in with you to see if you wanted me to bring yours up to your room also," she said, and looked around the room at the various pieces of parchments that engulfed the floor. "Has he offered you the apprenticeship?" she asked sounding excited. "Are you going to be tested or something?"

"What? No," Draco answered, confused. "I'm just practicing for my own—project."

"That's good that you find other ways to keep yourself occupied. The first year Avi just sulked around, depressed that no one gave her any attention."

Draco laughed. She wasn't any better at the non-sulking now. "Why is Potter not having dinner downstairs?"

"Not sure. He seems to be in a brooding mood. He's asked me to pack his dinner, and he's going to be in his studio for the rest of the night. He does that sometimes. Claims he likes to just sit in the dark room on his favourite chair and...think."

"I thought he was going to be drawing all day and night?"

"You'll have to ask him. If he wants to sit in his empty room at the shop, that usually means some heavy thinking is involved."

Draco furrowed his brows. Earlier that day, Potter seemed to be fine. He said he was happy and there was nothing _brooding_ about him then. 

"So shall I bring your dinner up here, then?" Asha asked, sounding impatient.

"If it's all the same to you, will you please pack the dinner for myself and Potter and I will deliver it to his studio?"

Asha raised an eyebrow and gave Draco a scrutinising look. Draco waited patiently; he was almost ready to jump in and add some sort of an excuse, when Asha shrugged as if she approved of Draco's proposition. 

"I suppose it's worth a try. Finally." She gave Draco a knowing look and he again felt like she knew something he didn't and wouldn't share it with him.

"You trust me with the task?" he asked, almost teasing. 

She didn't say anything and left the room. Half an hour later, Draco went by the kitchen and Asha had prepared several containers for him to take. Draco went into the cellar and grabbed a bottle of wine before taking the packed dinner bag. He took the Floo to Potter's studio and arrived to a _very_ dark room.

He'd been holding the food, the wine, and the stack of parchments that he worked on in his room, and not much thanks to Draco's balancing skill, the wine bottle slipped.

Potter rose from his chair in alarm. The room was still dark but Draco could make the figure standing there. He was surprised that Potter didn't hear the Floo roar or maybe he'd thought it was Asha.

"Who is it?"

"It's me." 

"Draco? What are you—I'd asked Asha—" 

"I know, but she's busy so I brought you dinner and—" Draco looked at the floor and thankfully the wine bottle hadn't broken, it just rolled around the floor, "—wine."

"Why are you here, Draco?" Potter asked; his tone wasn't entirely angry, but Draco couldn’t help but feel the unwelcomeness of it.

"I thought...wait, why is it so dark in here?" Draco knew that Potter kept candles around the room and mumbled the spell to light them. The darkness started to dissipate and Draco turned to look at Potter. He was holding a drink, _Firewhisky_ , Draco reckoned. 

"I wanted to show you something I was working on," Draco said as he approached the table near Potter's chair. He chose to ignore the scowl on Potter's face and the half-empty bottle that rested on the floor. 

He placed the bag of food and then fetched the wine bottle from the floor. He realised that he hadn't brought any wine glasses but assumed that since Potter was already drinking in his studio, he most likely had extras. 

"Why are you here, Draco?" Potter repeated himself; the unsympathetic tone had slightly squandered. 

"Told you. Food and the stag."

"The what?" Confusion replaced the scowl that had been resting on Potter's face.

"Last night, I saw the tattoo on your back and realised that it's not finished, and thought maybe I could..." Nervousness enclosed in and Draco realised that he was standing a little too close to Potter. "I have some drawings. Ideas, really."

"When did you draw these?" Potter asked as he placed his glass down and grabbed the parchments of sketches off Draco's hands. 

"Today. After we arrived. I was in my room all day and—"

" _Today_? You drew all of these today?" Potter looked at sketches closely, and Draco couldn't tell if the surprise was a good thing or bad. 

"They're rough drafts. I can get better. Maybe a day or two more of practice..."

"These are impressive for just a few hours," Potter said. "You...you must really want the apprenticeship..."

 _Or, I could just really want your adoration_. Draco shook his head, wishing the thought away, and when he looked up at Potter, the scowl was back. Potter obviously took Draco's headshake as something else. 

"I just..." Draco paused. "Can I see it?"

"Can you see what?" Potter asked, sounding confused again.

"The tattoo. The stag. I was under the impression that that's your Patronus."

"How do you know that?" Potter's eyes widened.

Draco chuckled. "The Saviour of the wizarding world asks," he said.

"Oh. Right," Potter said. He eyed the containers that Draco had placed on the table. "Asha packed an awful lot of food."

"It's for us. You and I," Draco said. "I hope you don't mind. If you wish to dine alone, then I understand." Draco tried to not look absolutely disappointed. When had he become so taken? 

"It's fine, Draco," Potter said and this time his tone was back to being not-angry but still unwelcoming. 

"Potter. If I've done something to upset you..."

"You haven't," Potter said. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind and I—I like to come here to think."

"Right. So that's a no on viewing the tattoo, then?" Draco couldn't help but ask one more time before being rejected again.

Potter snorted. "You don't give up, do you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow trying to ask: _Are you really asking me that?_

"Fine," Potter said and he removed his shirt. 

Right. Draco was such an idiot. He was already standing too close to Potter and now Potter had gone and taken his shirt off. How was Draco planning to breathe?

Potter turned his back towards Draco, and Draco watched the stag swerve a bit as if it were a drawing on a curtain and a breeze had just passed by. Draco wanted to reach out and touch it. The stag. Potter's skin. He'd never wanted to wrap his arms around another man as badly as he wanted to with Potter at that moment. He cleared his throat, grabbed a few of his sketches, and compared them to the tattoo on Potter's back. 

"Right," he said and then used that as an excuse to trace the lining of the animal with his finger. The stag moved again. 

"What does it feel like?" Draco asked. He had asked the question before, the first day Potter had started to tattoo the phoenix on him, and even before that. He'd work on the bird and the flames for a while, but he still had not spelled it to life. 

Draco wasn't sure what Potter was waiting for. 

"Sort of like a gentle tickle. When the tattoo moves on its own, you don't really feel it after a while, but the sensation is more when someone else touches it. Someone that can—" Potter cleared his throat. 

"That can what?" Draco asked. 

"Someone that can make your heart beat faster," Potter answered; his response was a mere whisper. 

Draco traced the lines again. He felt Potter's body slightly shiver under his touch, but Draco didn't stop. His fingers kept moving, first around the tattoo, then just on Potter's back, where there wasn't any ink, and then up to his shoulder. He leaned in close, almost as if he couldn't help himself. His body was being _pulled_ towards Potter. 

"Draco..." Potter's voice trembled. 

Draco stepped closer; he brushed his nose against the back of Potter's neck, taking in his scent. His hand involuntarily rested on Potter's side and then his entire body was resting against Potter's, his clothed chest touching Potter's exposed back. 

Draco was hard and his erection pressed against Potter's arse. He didn't want to pull away. Feeling Potter against him was _incredible_ ; being this close was intoxicating.

"Draco, don't..." Potter said, but he hadn't moved. He didn't push Draco away, nor did he pull Draco towards him. His body was rigid, but he was so warm that Draco couldn't stop himself—wouldn't stop himself.

"You should go," Potter said, turning around. 

"Why?" Draco met Potter's gaze, but a moment later Potter looked away.

"Because if you don't..."

"Because if I don't—?" Draco reached Potter and placed his hands on Potter's waist again. He didn't wait and was against Potter's skin, feeling Potter's breath on him. Potter's arms were tense, and his half-hard cock rubbed against Draco's obvious erection. 

Draco bent down and brushed his lips against Potter's. Potter didn't hesitate for one second, he deepened the kiss and Draco _finally_ tasted him. He tasted of Firewhisky—one sip, and Draco was drunk. 

Potter pressed hard against Draco, he murmured Draco's name, and before Draco knew what was happening, Potter was on the leather chair with Draco on top of him. Draco's heart was pounding harder than ever before, and he was hot, so hot for Potter. His body burned and he removed his shirt, continuing to grind his erection against Potter’s. Draco wanted him more than anything in the world. He wanted Potter more than he wanted his freedom, wealth, his ink...his apprenticeship. Draco never wanted anything more… He _needed_ Potter. 

"No, not here," Potter said, trying to push Draco off him. "Not like this."

"Yes! Here," Draco insisted. "Here and like _this_. Please, Potter. I can't—I can't wait. I need you. _Please_!" Draco wasn’t above begging in that moment.

Potter pushed Draco off him regardless. But before Draco had a chance to protest again, he undid the buttons on Draco's trousers and pulled them down. Next, he stood up himself, and slipped out of his own trousers. He pushed Draco down on the long chair, his chest resting against the back of it.

Potter climbed on top of Draco, and pushed his body against Draco’s. He rubbed his cock against the crack of Draco's arse, and his hands moved in between Draco's legs. He spread Draco's thighs and moved his hand away. 

Draco almost whined, but when he turned to object Potter smiled at him. He brought his hands to Draco's lips, and Draco sucked on Potter's fingers, licking them wet. He understood what Potter was doing and the excitement of the situation made his own cock twitch. 

Draco released Potter's fingers and then they were pushing inside Draco. Draco arched back and moaned Potter's name. He must have liked that reaction, because Potter did it again and again until Draco seemed to be stretched enough. 

"Now, Potter. Please..." Draco panted and grabbed the back of the chair harder. His fingernails dug into the leather, and Draco was sure that it was going to leave a mark. Potter pressed against Draco and with one swift movement pushed inside him. 

Draco groaned with the pain for a moment, but when Potter pulled out of him and did it again, his own cock leaked against the leather. Potter ran one hand through Draco's hair and pulled his head back for a kiss. Draco was so full of him—Potter's tongue inside his mouth, his prick throbbing inside his body, and they moved; they moved as if they were doing this for the thousandth time.

Draco loved how they fit together. 

After he pulled away from Draco, Potter moved his hips, hard. His one hand rested on Draco’s shoulder as the other reached around between Draco’s legs. Draco knew he was hot in Potter’s grip. Potter bit into Draco’s skin and moved faster.

Draco cried out his orgasm and Potter continued pounding into him. Draco released the leather chair and his hands travelled back to grab onto Potter's head. His fingers ran through Potter's hair and he tugged on the locks tightly. Their lips locked into a deep kiss again and Potter's fingers dug into Draco's skin as he climaxed. 

Slicked and sticky, they lay on the chair. Potter pulled out of Draco and wrapped his hands around Draco's waist. They didn't speak and Draco noticed how their breaths were no longer shallow, no longer panting. He closed his eyes feeling Potter's come dripping out of his hole; he thought that he was going to rest his eyes just for a minute, and then Draco allowed sleep to take over him.

The food, the wine, the sketches, forgotten.

* * *

*

* * *

Draco woke to the sound of scribbling. He was under a warm and comfortable blanket, the bed was soft and he felt like he'd slept for days. He opened his eyes to take in his surroundings and saw Potter in the corner leaning over his workstation. He wore nothing but boxers.

Draco was in Potter's room. He was in _Potter's bed_.

He rubbed his hand over his face, sweeping the last bit of sleep off, and then he remembered. Draco going to show his sketches to Potter; Draco leaning against Potter's body; Potter kissing him, pushing into him. _Fucking_ him.

"Hello," Draco whispered and Potter looked up at him, almost shocked. 

He leaned back into his chair and smiled. A smile that made Draco's heart melt. A smile that assured Draco that he hadn't made a mistake, that _it_ wasn't a mistake. 

"Did I wake you?" 

Draco shook his head and propped himself up on his left arm and rested his head on his hand. "What time is it?"

"Just after eight o'clock."

"You...you brought me here?"

Potter nodded. 

"What are you working on?"

"Come and look." Potter extended his arm towards Draco, motioning him to come to him. 

Draco crawled out of bed. He was completely naked and hesitated for a moment, but the way Potter was smiling at him, Draco was willing to walk like that through the entire house, let alone across the room.

Potter pulled Draco into his arms right away, and Draco sat in Potter's lap.

"What is it?" Draco asked, looking over the parchment that Potter was scribbling on; his handwriting barely legible.

"I sent Bhim to the Office of Law at the Ministry this morning. I wanted to make it official."

"Make what official?" Draco turned to look at Potter and Potter's hand had moved from the parchment to Draco's thighs. He leaned into the touch.

"Your apprenticeship. If you are to be my apprentice to become an ink-master, then you are no longer in a binding contract with me as my oeuvre. It'll render the service-bond useless."

"Oh," Draco said. He remembered the conversation he'd overheard between Charlie and Potter.

_"But you're taking him on as your apprentice?"_  
 _"Yes."_  
 _"You know what that means..."_  
 _"I know exactly what that means."_

"So this will ensure that I'm..."

"Free," Potter said. "You're not bound to me or anyone else. I can still work on you and your tattoos, but you aren't tied to the Potter household or the shop or—"

"But, I thought..."

"You thought what?" There was a slight note of panic in Potter's voice.

"My skin belonged to you?" Draco said with a smile. 

Potter pulled him close and nuzzled into Draco's neck. "That's up to you now."

"You knew my interest in tattooing from the start," Draco said and Potter nodded against his skin. "You knew that I'd be more interested in being an apprentice..."

"Yes. I needed a canvas, I still do, but I value your freedom—I respect a human being too much to force them to be with me..."

"With Avi?" Draco asked.

"Avi is free to come and go as she pleases. We have rules but that's really more for her protection than anything else. Initially, she'd sought me out. She wanted _me_ to ink her, so I had created a contract with her that she allowed with her own will. You didn't have that choice, Draco."

"So you would have done this regardless. You would have done this even if you..." Draco hesitated.

"Even if I wasn't in love with you?" Potter asked.

Draco felt a warmth rise in the pit of his stomach, and he wasn't sure if he was to cry or laugh. He settled against Potter's chest. "Yeah," he said, struggling to remain nonchalant. "If you weren't in love with me." 

"You are talented and you picked up the work from the first day. It's clear that you are skilled in many things and even though you were intrigued by the idea of being a living art piece, it was not given to you via free will. I can't...I can't stress enough about the way I feel...about that. My own history. Hermione's hard work with freeing the house-elves, the ruthless pureblood traditions..."

"I was part of all of that. Some would say I deserved it."

"Yes. Well, I say that everyone deserves a second chance," Potter argued. "Draco, I want to help you because I would help anyone in your situation. But, I have to admit that your talent, your drawings, they're _good_. I know I started it all in order to help you become independent, but it's half the reason I fell in love with you."

"Just half?" Draco teased. He turned his head and kissed Potter's cheek. 

Potter's hands grew bolder and he gripped Draco's legs tightly. Draco felt Potter's erection against his bare arse and even though he was sore from the night before, he wanted Potter again—ached for him.

"Half I suspect..." Potter ran his thumb over Draco's cock, and Draco released a groan of pleasure. "...half, I've _always_ been in love with you," he said. 

"Harry..." Draco arched his back and rubbed his arse against Potter's erection. Potter bit down on Draco's shoulder again, the same spot he had the night before.

"But you love me," Draco said and they were moving in unison: Draco grinding against Potter's cock wishing that it was inside him, and Potter stroking Draco's prick in harsh but even movements.

"Yes. Draco. I love you." Potter panted the words in between his own moans of pleasure. "Love you so _damn_ much." 

"And I love you," Draco said, pushing hard on Potter's cock as he came all over Potter's hand.

"Oh, Draco." Potter kissed the back of Draco's neck. "Say it again. Please," he said and struggled to keep Draco on top of his cock. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you, Harry." Draco rose and fell harder on Potter's cock and was grinding his arse on him again. 

" _Yes_..." Potter mumbled and Draco felt Potter's hot come as he spilled in his shorts and Draco wanted to feel it against his skin, taste it in his mouth. He wanted to smear it against Potter's lips—

"Merlin, Potter. What do you do to me?" Draco said as he realised how illicit his thoughts were becoming. 

"Me?" Potter asked, almost laughing. "I came in my pants. I haven't done that since I was sixteen years old!"

Draco laughed with him and reached for Potter's wand that rested at the edge of his workstation. "Here," he said, handing the wand to Potter who spelled them both clean. 

"You carried me to your bed last night?" Draco asked as Potter pulled on Draco and they were heading back to his bed.

Potter nodded sheepishly.

"And the food?"

"I told Asha to go by the studio to clean up."

Draco stopped in his tracks. "So she knows already?" He tried not to sound too anxious.

"Yeah. She saw you sleeping in my bed."

"Oh." Draco's eyes unintentionally widened.

"Is that a problem?" Potter asked and Draco could tell the apprehension in Potter's voice.

"Of course not. I just—I'll just never live it down, will I?" He grinned at Potter attempting to show him that he wasn't upset about what they'd done, only that it would be embarrassing for a little while. With Asha, Alexis, and...Avi. _Shite_.

"Will you...will you still stay here? During your apprenticeship, I mean." Potter evidently hadn't noticed the slight panic attack Draco had just had.

"I have nowhere else to go," Draco answered. He felt like he belonged there now.

"But, if you did?" Potter asked. "If you could cash out what you earned on display and your payment as an employee at Lily's Tattoo Shop?"

"Potter." Draco looked at him intently. He leaned in to kiss Potter once and progressed to sit on the bed. "I want to stay _here_." He ran his hand over the sheets and tapped it once for Potter to come and sit next to him.

"Here?" Potter said, wide-eyed, and reached for Draco's hand. He held it tightly and then placed it on his heart.

"If I have the money to become self-sufficient, I'd rather use the Galleons to purchase my family heirlooms back from Kaminas..."

Potter groaned at the name and Draco couldn't help but laugh. 

"What happened to the cool and stoic ink-master that rules this house?" he teased. "When did you become so uneasy? So impatient?"

"I've always been uneasy when it comes to you, Draco." He leaned in and kissed Draco, first on the cheek then on his lips. "Yet, it's always been you that gives me strength."

"Says the Gryffindor," Draco said. He pulled Potter towards him and they both slid under the blanket. With sunrise edging in through the window, and Potter's arm around his waist, Draco fell asleep again.

* * *

*

* * *

" _You know he's just going to run away. You've always been afraid of that_."

Draco opened his eyes in the morning and heard a faint chatter coming from the room next door. Avi's voice was impossible to miss and he had hoped that she would've been away longer. 

It had been a blissful few days while she was at the Orléans'. He knew that it would be different, awkward, downright uncomfortable even, to have to tell her about the change of events. He wasn't going to be in the room next to hers anymore, and he'd be spending more time learning to draw and tattoo than spend it in the library; he really had no idea how she'd take it.

"He won't _run away_ ," Potter said, his tone more hushed than hers. "He wants this. He wants to learn."

"You think he's going to stay with you just because you fucked him? You forget that he's a Death Eater, Harry. They're only loyal to themselves." There was a beat of silence. "Emmanuel Orléans offered to teach him their family secret of how to hide in the wizarding world. He'll leave, Harry. He won't even look back."

Draco couldn't believe it. Everything from the beginning had been a lie. Her attitude, her friendship, she'd used him and she'd even _lied_ to Potter about him and now—this.

"That's enough, Avi." Potter's voice was stern. Draco heard the shuffling of feet and then the door to Potter's bedroom was shut, as if Potter was afraid that Draco would hear.

Draco _did_ hear.

"It'll be like the half-finished stag on your back..." was all Draco heard before he opened the door slowly and stepped out of the bedroom. He didn't need Potter to fight his battles for him. He never wanted that. Sure, Potter helped and would always help, but Draco could still hold his own. He knew Avi for who she was, and he wasn't afraid of her.

"Hello," Draco said quietly as he walked in.

"Draco," Potter said, apologetically. "We woke you..."

"It's alright. I'm used to the early morning hours," Draco replied, gently. "I wanted to know about the feast—"

"Don't be coy with me, Draco," Avi sneered. "Asha told me what you did to win your freedom."

 _And you fucking Monsieur Orléans is any different_? Draco wanted to say but refrained. "She did? Did she tell you that she knew how I felt about Potter, and she _sent_ me to him. That yesterday when I told her that I was in love with him, she jumped with joy?"

Avi didn't answer and only scowled at him more.

"Why are you really upset, Avi?" Draco asked. Potter had placed his hand on the small of Draco's back, and Draco was glad for the touch. He subtly leaned into it, making sure Potter would know that he wanted him there.

"You don't—you don't get to have a happy ending!" Avi retorted and then broke into tears like Draco had never seen before. She covered her face with her hands and sank into a nearby sofa. "It's not fair!"

"Avi! What's the matter?" Draco rushed to her side and started to pet her hair. "What happened? Tell me."

"I'd been suspecting it for a while, but I only confirmed it two days ago when I went to St Mungo's to see a Healer..."

"You're pregnant," Draco said. It made sense. When she'd heard that the Orléans were moving she'd nearly had a panic attack. She'd also been counting down to the end of her service-bond. She was waiting for the man to marry her or commit to her or something of the sort.

"How did you know?" she asked, shocked.

Draco shrugged. "So what happened?"

"Marie..." she said, sounding exasperated, "of all the people, accused me. She said that if I'd been providing my "services" to Jacque, then I might have done the same with others that invited me over for display. How could I prove that it was an Orléans' child I carried?"

Potter knelt down next to them. "I hate to ask, but..."

"I never...with anyone else!" she roared, and then immediately looked embarrassed. "I didn't even want to sleep with Monsieur Orléans, but he was just always so kind and sweet, and I really do love him. I do, Harry."

"I will speak to him, if you'd like," Potter said. He squeezed her shoulder and glanced at Draco. Draco smiled at him and Potter looked glad knowing that he’d said the right thing.

"Is that okay?" Potter asked Avi.

"You'd do that?" she asked, surprised again. "After everything I—"

"Hey," Potter said, wiping a tear off her face. "You're part of this family, Avi. And before you leave us, I want to make sure that you find a new one that'll protect you. Like us." He smiled again and kissed the top of her head.

"I'll go with him, but I'm not sure if that won't be counterproductive. Given Emmanuel Orléans and all..."

Avi laughed at Draco's response and pulled him in for a hug. "I am _so_ sorry, Draco. I've just been a complete..."

"It's okay."

"...bitch."

Now it was Draco's turn to laugh. "It's alright. You were just watching out for yourself. The world's a harsh place, and we all...we all get lost sometimes." He felt Potter's warm hand rub over his spine and closed his eyes for a second. "Okay then. Let's get some breakfast, shall we?"

They stood up together and walked down the steps toward the kitchen. Alexis had everything prepared for them as Asha had been called away for a family matter.

Breakfast was almost over when an owl arrived, surprising them all.

"Monsieur Orléans wishes to stop by the house at noon. It seems he requests an audience."

" _Jacque_ Orléans?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Potter said, rolling his eyes. "Jacque Orléans."

"What does he want?" Draco added.

"I don't know. It doesn't say. He just wrote that he wants to talk to me."

"I should, I should..." Avi thrown into disarray. "...shower. Maybe he'll want to speak to me. Strike some sort of a deal..."

"Avi," Potter said calmly. "It's okay. Just breathe and it'll be okay."

"Right," she said and left the room.

"A shower doesn't sound so bad right now," Potter said turning towards Draco and winked. 

Draco immediately blushed and was about to respond when Alexis cleared his throat, making them aware that he was still in the room. 

"Right. Brilliant," Potter said, biting his lip as he looked at Draco and walked away.

They all but ran up the stairs to Potter's room and the private bath that was attached to it. Potter removed Draco's clothes frantically, and Draco felt the same as he unbuttoned Potter's trousers.

Moments later, they were under the hot water and Potter was on his knees, licking and sucking on Draco's cock. When he stood up, he turned towards the water and handed the soap to Draco.

_It'll be like the half-finished stag on your back..._

Draco touched the tattoo on Potter's back again as he lathered Potter's skin and himself. He couldn't get Avi's words out of his head. 

They finished showering and Potter must have felt Draco's unease because he held his hand and pulled him to the bed where they sat looking at each other. Potter raised an eyebrow indicating that he was waiting for Draco to speak.

"Why is the stag unfinished?"

"What?" Potter tensed up immediately. 

"The tattoo on your back. It moves with magic, but it's incomplete. Why?"

"You heard her," Potter said.

"That's not an answer, Potter."

"I—it's from another apprentice. They'd started working under me and well, it just didn't work out."

"They?" Draco arched an eyebrow.

"He," Potter said.

"He," Draco affirmed. "Not the first apprentice you loved, then?"

Potter glowered at Draco. "Am I the first man you ever fucked, then?"

"On a leather chair, yes." Draco smiled at Potter, hoping that he could show Potter that he wasn't upset, or hurt, or feeling betrayed. Potter had a past. Of course he did. "Just tell me the story. I'm the last man on earth to pass any judgement."

"They told me that he wasn't worth my heartache...but who can really command a heart?" Potter closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "He always wanted more, and I could never satisfy his need. He wanted the fame, the display, the whole glittering future. We fell...for each other maybe me more than him. But when it came down to it, he fell for others too. Some with more money, more power, more stardom. And then he was gone...and, well your Patronus is based on happy memories, and I suppose it serves me right that it's still in progress."

"Do you still love him?"

Potter shook his head. "I don't think I ever did, really. I was just lonely and he was handsome, and sweet, and..." Draco was sure he was scowling. Potter laughed. "I was a different person, then. I know I can safely say that the way I felt about him doesn't even _compare_ to the way I feel about you."

"You don't have to—"

"Draco. I don't do anything half-arsed. I'll circle the seas twice, if you asked me. I love you, and I'll do _anything_ for you."

"How long did he stay with you before you let him ink you?" Draco asked.

"Nearly two years," Potter answered without hesitation.

"I'd barely stayed with you a month when you allowed me to ink you with that serpent," Draco said, shocked. 

"I know. I saw something in you—felt something that I can't—I can't explain. Trust me, I've tried. I've talked to everyone who'd listen, until my face would turn blue and I can't—"

"You've talked? About me?"

"Yeah. To Ron, and Hermione. Charlie, Sebastian, Ann, Jackson, even Mrs Lipton that one time when you'd stayed home to rest..."

"They all know?"

"That I'm in love with you? Yes."

There was a knock on the door and the conversation came to a halt. Alexis coughed once and then knocked again.

Potter wrapped a dressing gown around him and left the room. Draco went into the cupboards to look for something of Potter's to wear. His things were still in his bedroom even though he'd been sleeping in Potter's room for the last few nights.

Potter returned and gave Draco an odd look. "It seems Monsieur Orléans has already arrived. Whatever he wished to say, he's too eager about it."

They dressed quickly and went into the sitting room where Jacque Orléans sat, looking worried. He stood up abruptly when he saw Potter and Draco approach.

"Mr Potter!"

"Monsieur Orléans," Potter said, serene. "I'm glad you're here. Draco and I were going to pay a visit to you today, anyway."

"Oh, good. I'm glad I was able to save you the trouble," he said, nodding frantically. 

"Mons—"

"Mr Potter, I know what you are going to say. I already know that you don't like me, and you never approved of my special friendship with Avi. But, I wanted to tell you that I love her, and I'm sorry that Marie's words upset her so much. I've had time to think, and I've been an idiot. I fooled myself in thinking that I could live without her. I'm not like my brother, and I'm extremely glad that Mr Malfoy didn't give in to his manipulations, but I wanted to assure you, I'm not like Emmanuel. I love Avi. I want to marry her!"

"What about the accusation that it isn't yours? That Avi was promiscuous?" Draco arched an eyebrow. This was his family too now, and he was going to defend it. Potter looked at him with a warm smile, understanding what Draco was trying to do and he looked like he was glad for it.

"I—Marie says things without thinking them through. You know her engagement has ended? Anyway, I let her words steer me, but I'm back on track. I know the child is mine, and at any off chance it isn't, I still want it to be mine. I know that I'm older than Avi..."

"By a dozen years," Potter said, stern.

"I know. But I've waited my whole life for someone like her and I can't, I can't just let her get away. Don't you understand, Mr Potter? Haven't you wanted someone so much that you'd part seas for them?"

Potter cleared his throat but his face remained impassive. Monsieur Orléans had definitely struck a chord with him and Draco was impressed at how unaffected Potter was acting. Draco walked up next to Potter and placed his hand on Potter's shoulder.

"Are you not moving to France soon?" Draco asked. 

"Yes. I'm hoping that we can announce our engagement—"

"What makes you think that we will let our Avi just go with you? What makes you think that _we_ trust _you_?"

Potter leaned a half a centimetre towards Draco and his fingers brushed against Draco's left leg. Draco suppressed a smile. 

"We can have a bonding ceremony instead of an engagement party and when we are all settled in Paris, we'll have the wedding. Will you allow that?"

"I—" Potter started to speak, but Draco cut him off.

"We will check with Avi and let you know," Draco said. "It is ultimately _her_ decision, and she is the one who has to forgive you. Not Potter or I."

"Right, of course." Jacque nodded. "Will you please allow me to speak to her?"

Draco looked at Potter who gave him a look of: _Well, can I speak now?_ Draco shrugged and Potter simply shook his head. They left the room and just around the corner saw Avi waiting for her cue.

"What did he say?" Avi asked anxiously. Her finger twirled in her hair as she tried to show that she _wasn't_ nervous when Draco knew that she was panicking.

"Well, he wants to marry you," Draco said dryly, like it was the most unimpressive thing in the world.

Avi slapped his arm. "Shut up. This isn't the time for jokes, Draco."

"It's true," Potter added. "He wishes to ask you himself. You must agree that you'll have your bonding ceremony here, and I will play witness to it. Then, you can move to the other side of the world with him for all I care."

Avi launched at Potter in a hug and squeezed him tightly. "What about my ink? It isn't finished."

"After you have the baby, you can always come back. I'll free you of your service-bond, of course, and any time you want for tattooing, you can stop by."

"Hopefully not early in the morning, screaming outside our bedroom door, and divulging all of Potter's secrets," Draco added.

Potter glared at him and Draco grinned.

"I am very sorry about that, Harry," Avi said, giving them a sheepish look.

Potter shrugged. "It's alright. It was bound to come out someday, I'm sure. Now, I know Draco will pay attention when tattooing my back, just so he can prove that he's the better artist. _And_ the better lover." Potter winked at her as she grinned, and this time it was Draco's turn to glare.

"Now, get going before he thinks our answer is no and he leaves!" Potter added and she all but squealed with excitement. She poised herself and walked slowly towards the sitting room.

"Lunch, Sir?" Alexis asked as he peered from around the corner.

"You best set the table for four, Bhim," Potter said. 

"Very well, then. Apple Cider?" Alexis asked.

"Non-alcoholic, I presume," Potter said and Alexis nodded. "Only for her. I'll need something harder." Draco suppressed a snort.

Alexis shook his head and returned to the kitchen.

"Business as usual," Draco muttered. Potter looked at him in confusion. "Don't tell me you've never noticed."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Of course, I've noticed. If there's anything about pining in silence, I'd be the one to know, Draco."

"And what are you doing about it?" Draco asked. 

Potter shrugged. "I wasn't very good at sorting my own love life, how can I do anything for Bhim and Asha?" he asked. 

"Well, I'm here now," Draco said. "And I plan to stay...so there will be no secret crushes in this house. No staying up well into the night longing after the one you desire."

"You plan on dictating everyone's life, Malfoy?" Potter asked, smirking slightly.

Draco shook his head. "I just plan to give a whole new meaning to 'business as usual', Harry."

* * *

THE END.


End file.
